


A Voice in the Wind

by tricksie



Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki Uzumaki Naruto, Alternate Universe, Atmospheric, Author regrets nothing, Complicated Plot, Dark Uzumaki Naruto, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Multi Chapter, NaruSaku - Freeform, Slow Burn, Spirit World, This will be long, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 87,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23707048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksie/pseuds/tricksie
Summary: Sakura is abducted on a mission by a rogue nin. He reveals himself to be about the same age as she is, but is very cagey about most other details of his life. However they form a strong bond in their short time together, stronger in fact than any of the bonds with her assigned teammates from her village. She manages to escape, returns home and works over the next few years to be a stronger, more capable ninja. But she never forgets him.A summer encounter with the rogue nin results in an even stronger friendship with him than before. But that bond is shaken to the core when a mission goes terribly wrong. Both betrayed, Sakura turns to her true teammates, strengthening her ties to her village. And the rogue sheds his former identity and turns fully into the life that had been prepared for him.Years later, when a chance encounter turns into a nightmare battle, the Akatsuki's newest member, a young blonde mercenary, has to make a hard choice. Will he keep his identity hidden yet let the pink-haired girl die in his arms? Or will he do what he knows is necessary to save her: wrap her in his hard-earned Akatsuki cloak and head straight for the village that failed him as a child?
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 67
Kudos: 90





	1. Taken

**_A Voice in the Wind_ **

_For years, copying other people_

_I tried to know myself._

_From within, I couldn't decide what to do._

_Unable to see, I heard my name being called._

_Then I walked outside._

_—Rumi_

* * *

The trade road hurtled down the arid mountainside, unraveling like a ribbon of gold off a teetering merchant cart. It looped wide, careening out to the dusty cliff’s edge, then snagged on crumbling rocks and folded back in on itself, over and over, until it disappeared into the green valley far below.

Beneath the leafy canopy, the road trailed over hills, dipped into streams and swung around massive moss-covered tree trunks. Ancient trees arched overhead, intertwining their limbs. Their deep green shadows softened the rocky edges of the old road.

By this time of year, dusty sandals should have tamped a well-worn path down the center. Carts should have been bobbing and swaying through its ruts. And birds should have been chattering indignantly at the relentless shuffle and clang of interlopers through their forests.

But neither weary merchants nor rattling carts would trespass through this suffocating summer heat. Even the birds were a distant memory. Save for a warm breeze rippling through the trees now and then, the air was heavy and soundless.

The unseasonable temperatures had driven all creatures away from the old trade road — all except _them_.

Wiping sweat from the back of her neck, Sakura tucked an errant strand of pink hair behind her ear and tried to stretch her stiff limbs around the knobby roots. She dropped her chin into her hand, elbow sinking a little in the black dirt, and drummed her fingers across her cheek. It was getting hard to keep her eyes open. She sighed deeply.

A rustle in the branches nearby caught her attention, and she pulled back a limb from their makeshift hideout to peer out into the unusually silent woods.

A single leaf drifted lazily to the ground.

She sighed again. Nothing had changed. The branch eased back into place.

Sakura drowsily studied the jagged-edged leaves in front of her nose. She had memorized them all. If they stayed there much longer she was going to start naming them.

The three teens had been huddled under the bush for the better part of a week. Their mission was simple: run surveillance on the abandoned road.

"A teamwork exercise," her sensei had said. "The Sandaime suggested it." Kakashi shrugged, but Sakura was beginning to think the old man was as daft as her silver-haired instructor.

Lying there in the dirt, oppressed by the heat and silence, she was beginning to think differently about a lot of things.

Sakura pushed limp hanks of hair behind her ears again. She was _seriously_ questioning the wisdom of cutting her short.

She managed to keep the distracting strands out of her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the short ends from curling up in the humidity and tickling her cheeks and neck.

She’d turn her head and a few hairs would graze her skin. Panicked, she’d swat away at what she thought was a bug, only to realize in frustration that it was the product of her new hair style.

Sakura had cut her hair before this mission, excusing the drastic change to those around her as a necessity, but telling herself it would be a mark of a turning point in her life. As she watched the long waves fall to the ground, the pale pink hair she had cultivated since childhood, Sakura envisioned a transformation that would seep into all corners of her life.

She would look more like a ninja. _Snip._

She would look more like a medic. _Snip._

She would be taken seriously. _Snip._

And for a little while she was transformed. She _did_ feel different. She relished the way her "new" hair became unruly at the edges, floating and moving with a freedom she'd never had before. Sakura saw this change in the mirror as one she could have in her life too. Carefree yet confident, she thought, admiring her new look with a smile.

Sakura delighted in imagining the marked difference between her and her best friend Ino's hair. ‘So long and flowing,’ she used to think with a sigh as she watched Ino preen. ‘So impractical,’ she would amend her thinking now. Flush with the wisdom and maturity that accompanied her new hairstyle, Sakura thought this must be how a real kunoichi felt.

Frowning at the memory, Sakura jerked suddenly to bat away a nonexistent “bug.” But all she managed was to lurch up into the branches over her head. She reached up to dislodge those "carefree curls" from the limbs over her head. But one hank was still mercilessly entangled.

She scooted up on her knees, dingy boots digging into her calves and smudged skirt stretching over dusty black shorts, and reached back with both hands to free the snagged hair.

'A real kunoichi,' she thought darkly tugging the lock free, 'a real kunoichi doesn't get their hair caught in bushes.' She brushed the dirt off her red top, but it too was hopelessly filthy from lying on the ground.

A buzz sounded at her ear. She swatted hard, knowing this for sure was a real bug. But her hand went flying into her teammate’s face. She stopped her hand just inches from his nose and winced. He huffed indignantly and scooted toward their other teammate, widening the gap between them by only a few inches. But his message was clear.

Sakura glared at him a moment before wriggling back down to her lookout.

But she stared out at the forest with unseeing eyes. She didn't need to be reminded…. His words still stung her, weeks later.

Sasuke had called her useless. A burden. A dead weight. Then he went so far as to request her removal from his team. She tore off a thin branch and poked the ground with it.

 _His_ team. She grit her teeth at his arrogant presumption and snapped the twig in two.

Sakura had tried to hit him when he said it, but the punch never connected. He gracefully sidestepped, and she planted her fist into the hokage's wall instead. The smiling face of the Yondaime still looked handsome in the picture frame, even as it hurtled across the room. She closed her eyes and exhaled angrily at the memory, sending the leaves in front of her shivering.

So here they were, forced to work together in the tightest space possible, monitoring a desolate road in stifling heat for any sign of criminals. She'd have been happy to sweat it out under the bush for a week if they'd just sent her on her own. No, it was the fact they had to be punished as a team that really burned her.

She opened her eyes again to survey the road. Still nothing. Shifting her hand, she broke the remaining twig pieces in half again. They thudded one by one into the dirt.

A spate of ambushes earlier in the summer had sent several merchants to Konoha begging for assistance. Dispatching a genin team to stake out a corner of an enormous forest was at best a kind gesture. They knew there was no hope of seeing anyone in this weather. But the merchants would be happy, and troublesome Team 7 would be out of the way.

The only goal now is to keep from killing each other, she thought, picking up one of broken twigs and aiming at a gap in the leaves. She missed.

Maybe they would get lucky and some enemy nins would appear, she snorted to herself and pitched another twig. It hit a leaf and bounced back at her. Foreign nins, bandits, ruffians and rogues were usually the kind of action she hoped to avoid. But anyone would be an improvement over _him_ , she thought, feeling around in the dirt for the twig.

She pinched this one between her fingers like a dart, bit her lip and squinted at the target. She was sure this one would make it.

"Sakura," a low voice punctured the silence.

She froze, green eyes wide, arm raised, elbow covered in black dirt, twig poised to fly. Slowly, she lowered her arm and waited for his rebuke.

"Go collect your plants. You have fifteen minutes"

Sakura blinked in surprise, then frowned deeply at his commanding tone.

But when the she turned fully, ready to remind him that he was only their captain _not_ a kage, she found he was already scooting backwards. Face concealed by glossy black hair, he was pushing the branches back so she could exit the makeshift hideout.

His movements were as confident as his words were dismissive — he knew she would comply.

‘Jerk,’ she huffed petulantly to herself. She hated to obey him and give him that satisfaction. But the opening beckoned. A chance to escape her close quarters with him was just too good to pass up.

She bit back her retort, rocked onto all fours and climbed over the roots toward the opening.

Sakura edged past Sasuke. She was so close to freedom, she could almost feel the fresh air on her face, when a snide voice at her ear broadsided her.

"Don't screw it up."

It hit her like a physical blow, and she lowered her head for a moment. Sakura didn't need to see him to know what he meant: It was the same jab at the Hokage's office. He still dismissed her as useless.

Swallowing hard, Sakura collected herself and moved forward again when a low root snagged her toe. She stumbled and pitched forward. Off balance and with nothing to grab onto, Sakura crashed through branch-covered entrance and landed on her stomach, half out of the hideout.

Caught up in the melee, Sasuke tumbled out sideways. But he recovered gracefully and landed in a crouch outside the hideout where he waited for her to get up.

Sakura stifled a small, angry sob and forced herself up, pushing back against the single branch that covered the entrance. She righted herself and held the thin limb back in tension for him. Sasuke rocked forward and crawled back inside the hideout, not even sparing a glance at her.

‘Damn him,’ she thought, watching his retreating form filling up the opening. ‘Damn him for thinking everything revolves around him.’

Sakura closed her fist around the branch, crushing leaf and wood under her fingers. But a sudden thought buoyed her emotions.

Sakura's mouth curled into a wicked smile. She slowly pulled the pliant bough taut…then let it fly.

The branch whipped soundly across Sasuke’s backside with a loud pop.

Curses streamed out, and the commotion he made wheeling around to get after her made the bush look as if it had come alive, but Sakura didn't linger to see the fruits of her labor.

Sasuke disentangled himself and lunged back out trying to catch her, but she was already gone. Distant laughter filtered down through the canopy. His normally pale cheeks were ablaze.

"She's such a useless, pain in the—” he growled, scanning the trees and rubbing his backside. His face crumpled into a scowl as he realized the truth of his words.

Silence settled thickly over the forest again.

With one last glare, Sasuke ripped the branch off the entrance, throwing it to the ground,and disappeared into the hideout.

* * *

Boyish laughter rang through the treetops.

“Shut up!” The captain shoved the young shinobi beside him hard. "Perfectly concealed chakra only to be given away by your foolishness."

The younger ninja sobered quickly. “Sorry, taichou.” He knew this was important and didn't want to screw it up.

They pushed off the branch and moved fluidly through the leafy canopy, shadowing the girl.

When she stopped at a green clearing with a few flowering shrubs, they watched closely to assess her skill. The kunoichi paused, pulled a square cloth out of her waist pack and inspected one of the plants.

"Med-nin," said the younger ninja, settling his smaller form into a crouched position on the branch. "She's our target." The captain remained standing beside him but nodded his agreement.

The young man skimmed his fingers along the smooth bark at his feet and mentally ran through his paces: If she's a medic-nin then she'll certainly have information about her village. Plus she'll have a skill that can be leveraged against her. She can treat their wounded when they are so far afield with lofty promises of safe release in return.

He ran his hand absently over a cluster of leaves growing beside his foot, plucking off a particularly green leaf. The leathery surface was cool beneath his callused fingers.

He knew this was a standard procedure when abducting enemy nin for information — always pick the mid-level shinobi with easily recognizable skills. The lowest level ninjas never had information; highly skilled ninjas probably knew more, but they were completely unpredictable. They could unhinge your entire mission. Medics were always mid-level. She was just right.

'Plus,' he thought as he stood, replaying the moment in his mind when her downcast face brightened with the thought of intended harm on her teammate, 'she looks like fun.'

He tore the leaf in two and set off.

* * *

Sakura stopped in a natural clearing between the trees. The sun streaked down, illuminating a cluster of flowering shrubs in the center. Heart-shaped leaves…these were the ones she was looking for.

Sakura swiped the back of her hand over her damp forehead and walked through the waist-high bushes, inspecting each one before settling on the best specimen.

As she leaned down to pluck white flowers away from the plant, a warm breeze danced around the kunoichi, ruffling the fringe of pink hair that hung just past her jawline. Leaves rustled somewhere in the canopy above her.

She paused at the sound and lifted her head for a quick glance around, half expecting Sasuke to appear. But the breeze rolled through and, seeing no cause for alarm, Sakura bent back to her work.

Sasuke could really unnerve her. Even after all their time together on their genin team, she still didn’t feel like she belonged. She tried so hard but it was never enough.

Sakura pulled back the leathery leaves to find more white buds underneath hiding from her. Suddenly frustrated, she ripped the largest leaves away to expose the small blossoms. She swept up great handfuls and dropped them into her makeshift pouch.

After her anger was extinguished and the limb stripped bare, she moved around the plant, sighing and reminding herself that it wasn’t all her fault. After all, how do you work with a ninja who doesn’t need a team?

His brilliance was undeniable. And he was her partner, she had that pride of place at least. But that was where it ended.

Her childhood friend, Ino, still gave her a little glare now and then about being paired with her longtime crush, but in reality the camaraderie Ino shared with her own team was more than Sakura had ever felt with any of the shinobis she graduated with, let alone the two she was assigned to protect. Ino's team looked like an oasis from her vantage point. And while she had flourished, Sakura had floundered.

She broke off another strand of blossoms, tucked her wayward locks back behind her ears again and blew out a breath. Sakura had to admit it wasn’t just about the team…she was disappointed with herself as well. She knew better than to give in to Sasuke’s goading. She shouldn't have tried to hit him, in the Kage’s own office no less, even though she thought it would make her feel better. Which, she discovered belatedly, it didn't.

But his snide remarks had hit their target. She’d thrown the punch that landed them on this mission. And now they all had to suffer. And it wasn’t like they weren’t all suffering enough from being bumped from the chunin exams.

Kakashi had broken the news matter-of-factly that they were not to enter this year. Sasuke scowled, Sai was silent, but Sakura listened. Kakashi simply said it was for the best. If they couldn’t work together to survive, then they’d certainly die together. They could try again next year. It hurt her pride, but Sakura saw the wisdom in it. They were as far from a team as she could imagine.

Sakura shook her head then straightened and opened the pouch to examine her work. She had been so preoccupied she'd almost neglected the task at hand.

Gathering herbs from these woods was not technically part of a hospital medic’s job — this request was from a village herbalist — but since it earned her a much needed break from Sasuke, she acted as if the Kage himself had ordered it. Which wouldn’t matter to Sasuke. He would still look down his nose at her medic training.

Sakura sighed. And this was the one area where she felt capable. It was nothing special, just the basic training for those with an aptitude for chakra control, but she was catching on quicker than the rest. Even her instructor said she really had a talent for it. She was beginning to think this might be her niche as a Konoha shinobi. A Med-Nin, she thought dreamily. Well, maybe someday…when they finally got back to Konoha.

Sakura bit her lip, made a quick judge of the weight and sifted through the petals for any wayward bugs. Shaking everything back to the middle of the little square, she caught up the corners of the fabric and gave the pouch a little twist, pinching the folds between her fingers to keep it closed.

Satisfied with her work, she silently made another resolution to herself, one more atop an admittedly ever-growing pile of resolutions…. After this farce of a mission was over and they returned to Konoha, she would try harder. She would push on with her medic training. No matter what snide remarks Sasuke threw at her. She wouldn’t let it deter her. She may feel bad, but she wouldn’t give up.

Sakura let out a little snort under her breath. _Not give up? Some days it feels like that's the only thing I can do._

She took a final look at the plant in front of her, still resplendent with its glossy heart-shaped leaves. But the desirable flowers were gone. Sakura frowned a little at the picture it presented. She didn't want to be like this plant, only useful in someone else's more skilled hands. Just like she didn’t to be the weak link on Sasuke’s team. She wanted to be a strong kunoichi in her own right.

Sakura curled a short lock behind her ear and closed her hand around the small sack. She was ready to move on, away from this self-doubt, this mission, all of it. Yearning to feel the physical movement of leaving it all behind, Sakura turned quickly on her heel—

Just as someone rose up directly behind her, blocking her only path out of the clearing. She didn’t know how or when a body had materialized there, but the shock of it threw her into a true panic.

She knew she was face to face with another ninja.

A shinobi dressed in drab greens and browns peered at her through scratched goggles. Thin strips of cloth covered most of his face and hair, completely disguising him. They were only left loose at the mouth and nose for breathing. Wide-lensed green goggles tamped down the fabric around his eyes.

Another taller shinobi dropped from a tree to land squarely behind him, dressed in the same manner.

She did a split-second summary, just as she’d been taught in academy. They were shinobi for sure. They moved silently. The masks looked like those of Mist or Rain nins, but the forest-colored fatigues did not. So, no known nation and no visible hints to skill or affinity. She turned her full attention back to the immediate threat.

Black eyes glinted behind the scraped lenses, watching her work through her situation. Only the telling crinkle at the corners betrayed his unseen smile. He didn’t move, but Sakura knew she was caught.

_She hadn’t sensed anyone around her!_

But as she watched his eyes move interestedly over her face, she grew sickeningly aware that if she didn’t act fast, she was going to die here.

Sakura suddenly flung the sack of petals high into the air as a distraction while she reached for her kunai. She dug into her stance and grabbing for it, already planning her next moves, feeling the weapon and her salvation so close, just beyond her fingertips—

The rogue ninja advanced a pace and caught her wrist, never taking his eyes off of her.

He was perfectly prepared and read her movements effortlessly. The unknown nin leaned in close and said something…. She didn’t catch it but knew instinctively was threatening.

Sakura was burning through her options. The captured hand grasped at air, and she swung the other into a desperate backhand. But it was the work of a moment for the ninja to block and hold the other one.

Using his solid stance, he halted her momentum and drew her hands together, bringing her up in front of his face. Piercing black eyes bore into hers.

Everything froze for a split second. Pink tendrils floated weightless in front of her eyes. Petals hung in the air around her. Even the unyielding gaze of the rogue nin seemed to pause. Then the world restarted as if it had never stopped. Sakura reflexively drew in a breath.

Pushing the disorienting moment away, she jerked back, trying to detangle herself from the nin who was suffocatingly close…. When she sensed something was different….

Something was _wrong_.

The blossoms were falling around her like snow. Sakura turned her head slightly and saw the white cloth fluttering in a wide slow spiral downward. She forgot she was fighting.

But the petals began clotting strangely. _Dangerously._ Her gaze swung in slow motion back over the nin’s shoulder. The woodland around her shimmered and swayed as if caught in a winter storm. The green leaves flickered out of existence behind the smothering white flurries.

The second shinobi advanced on the pair. His dark figure cutting through the streaks of white, coming straight for them.

Sakura watched in horror as his silhouette distorted and leaked like spilled ink across the rippling scene. It blotted out her vision and plunged them all into darkness.

She jerked back, but her hands were held fast. She tried to scream a warning to her team, but the sound died on her lips.

'No,' she pleaded soundlessly into the void. 'No….’ She had let her guard down, let everyone down.…

The darkness splashed across her thoughts and wiped everything else away.

* * *

“A little preoccupied?" he had said.

He couldn't resist the taunt before he applied the genjutsu. He caught her wrist easily, blocked and held the other hand, then shifted his dark eyes back to hers for the finishing touch to the illusion. He watched his handiwork play out across her face: Her eyes went unnaturally wide with fear, her mouth opened slightly with what he assumed was a last-ditch effort to scream, then her face went slack and her eyelids slid closed.

'Bingo,' he thought lightheartedly.

"You cut that one too close," the captain grumbled behind him. "Next time, just stick to the plan." He turned smoothly and lunged back into the canopy of the trees.

"Hai" the younger nin said, but he shot a frown of disagreement at the older man’s back before hoisting the kunoichi onto his shoulder. He took two steps and retrieved the white cloth, then lunged up into the tree and disappeared.

Another light breeze stirred the last bits of blossoms aloft in his wake. They fell softly to the ground, leaving no hint of disturbance in the quiet, sun-dappled glade.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** In writing this little story, I want to investigate how certain statements can have a different meaning in when cast in a different light. I want to turn situations on their head, assign certain characteristics to characters in unconventional ways. Though technically an alternative universe, I'm trying to write in the same vein as characterizations in the manga, keeping most of the details the same. Dress, personality, etc. will be the same. Timeline and bad guys just can't be the exact same, but I'll try to make it as feasible as possible.

What to watch for: Some things are assigned directly from the manga. Some things are a twist on a theme or a scene. Some things are characterizations yet to be revealed. Some things are hidden characterizations that will never be revealed within the story. (Why? Because they are just another layer of description that you can read into or not. Best example is the torn leaf scene, read below.) There are overarching themes I will be weaving in and out throughout the story, as well as a few color cues for changes in activity/emotional tone.

For more notes, spoilers and early previews of upcoming chapters, visit my website (swirlingpetals) or follow me on twitter (tricksiewrites).

* * *

**Chapter Notes:**

• _Sakura had cut her hair before this mission, excusing the drastic change to those around her as a necessity, but telling herself it would be a mark of a turning point in her life._ — Sakura decides to cut her own hair as a way to help her feel more mature, ninja-like. A twist on the manga, where her hair is cut by the baddies but ends up helping her on her way to maturity.

• _He ran his hand absently over a cluster of leaves growing beside his foot, plucking off a particularly green leaf._ — Our ninja in the tree "plucks off a particularly green leaf," meaning Sakura both because of her green eyes and that she's an inexperienced Konoha nin.

• _"He tore the leaf in two and set off."_ — Hidden characterization here. So, I don't name this ninja for a while, but you should be in no doubt of his identity. Only one character in the manga tore a leaf in two while doing his wind element training….

• Mystery ninja's outfit – think Zabuza's face covering, with Kakashi's fatigues, and Naruto's goggles.

• Deliberately concealed third teammate's identity, just not important to the story right now

• Sakura's age/outfit — Sakura is still a genin, however, she's already in her Part II outfit.

• Changes to the timeline — They are still genin, but their ages are more at the end of part 1, around 14 or so. The team is a little more mature than in Part 1 in the manga. Sarutobi is still Hokage. They are genin but on the cusp of becoming chunin…but they couldn't pass Kakashi's bell test and got stuck as genins for another year (more on that to come). Sakura has had some standard medic training and shows promise, but it's not anything out of the ordinary. However she already feels an affinity for it.


	2. Perseverance

Sakura cracked her heavy eyelids open. Grey mist covered everything. She knew at least that she was at the base of a giant tree. A few languid streams of light filtered down through lacy branches above her. The air had a pungent tang of wet earth and wood, save for a faint thread of smoke wafting from some unseen fire.

But that was as far as she got. Sakura couldn't fight off the grogginess long enough to identify anything else. Her thoughts slurred together, and she drifted back into thick sleep.

What felt like hours later, a shooting pain in her side drove her eyes open again. Sakura gasped, clinging to the awareness it afforded her and blinked her eyes hard to keep from sinking under again.

She immediately catalogued her surroundings: a forest, a smoking fire, moist earth clinging to her cheek and the incredible pain blazing along her left ribcage.

Trying to move, stretch her limbs and get out of the dirt proved to be impossible. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back. And she was sure the throbbing ache along her side was from being dropped among the roots of the ancient tree.

Relenting, she laid her cheek back down in the soft dirt and mentally picked through what she remembered of the previous day. She was with her team, then collecting herbs…but the rest were incoherent fragments. She worked over it all again.

Shaking off the mental fog, some images began to surface: cherry blossoms, unnaturally white and thickening like snow, and a pair of dark eyes staring back at her….

She remembered now…she'd been ambushed.

Sakura squeezed her eyes against the snapshot memories and blew out a long, low breath, trying to quell her panic.

If she'd been caught by some unknown group, then her first priority would be to make an escape plan.

Moving slowly, hoping not to draw any attention to herself, Sakura craned her head to look at her surroundings. From her vantage point, she could see into an encampment. There was a slight clearing where a fire was indeed smoking itself out, and beyond were several tents, most small and hastily thrown up. Farther on, past more large trees, Sakura could just make out some larger campaign tents.

These must be the ones ambushing the merchants, she decided. Probably bandits or rogue nins looking for a little money for her safe return.

Birds chirped brightly in the canopy overhead. _A good sign._ This meant that she'd been left alone for a while.

Sakura pushed herself off her hurt side and up onto her elbow. Pink hair fell away from her cheek and dragged in the dirt as she rocked herself forward. Squinting, she could just make out some figures past the largest tents, but couldn't discern anything else.

A sudden rustle nearby ended any hopes of a quiet getaway.

"Oi, the girl's waking up," a gruff male voice called out. Her movements had not gone unnoticed.

A large figure in brown fatigues stalked around from behind the tree, grabbed her exposed elbow and hauled her swiftly into a sitting position.

For a moment, the trees actually swam in front of her, and the sky bloated oppressively overhead, as if an onslaught of water was being invisibly held back. Her stomach lurched. She squeezed her eyes shut against the vertigo and forced back bile, refusing to allow the involuntary push to vomit.

Genjutsu, she realized. And it had been powerful too.

"Hey, don't do that! She'll get sick," a different, clearer voice intoned somewhere above her head.

Sakura leaned her head back against the tree, face pale and skin clammy, and waited for the nausea to pass.

As if reciting from one of her academy books, she recounted the symptoms of genjutsu sickness and recovery time. Since it wasn't too deep, she thought, pausing to swallow then take a steadying breath, she should be feeling better shortly. She swallowed again and concentrated on the rhythm of her breathing and listened to the sound of heavy footfalls receding across the forest floor.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come on, the pressure around her abated. She cracked her eyes and looked up to see the trees and sky behaving as they should. She exhaled in relief.

"Better?" the same voice asked softly beside her.

Sakura blinked and slowly turned her head towards its source. Perched on a root beside her was another man in brown fatigues. He wore the same face concealing wraps as the men who ambushed her, but this one had jettisoned any eye coverings.

The man, squatting nearly at her eye level, leaned forward on his knees and scanned her face intently. He was obviously watching for signs that any vertigo was fading, but he seemed to have a keen interest in her, studying her face as if memorizing it.

His gaze traveled over her her hair, her cheeks, lingered at her mouth (she frowned immediately), then flashed back to her eyes. He tilted his chin thoughtfully, but didn't take his eyes from hers.

Railing at the uncomfortable intensity of his look, she decided she wouldn't buckle if he was trying to intimidate her. Instead she mirrored his actions, scrutinizing his face for anything even remotely traceable or memorable. But she found nothing. Even his eyes were unremarkable. No highlights, no deeper tones, just brown.

"Feeling better?"

She knew he had been waiting for her to either recover or empty the contents of her stomach.

He looked at her meaningfully and nodded, still waiting for for her to speak.

"Yes."

"That's good" he said, hopping to his feet. "Because you've got work to do."

In short order she was up and being escorted toward the knot of tents beyond the large trees.

As she walked, she stole a glance at her warden. He scratched distractedly at a pair of goggles pushed onto the top of his head. Sakura narrowed her eyes.

She knew one thing for certain now — she had already met the man who walked next to her. After that genjutsu, she thought meanly, she'd probably recognize those scuffed up green goggles anywhere.

They passed a loose cluster of tents. Two men paused from sharpening kunais to nod to her escort. They eyed her with curiosity, not bothering to conceal their interest in the camp's newest addition. Sakura tried to size them up as well, but since they all wore the same garb, including head covers of some kind, identifying personal traits or even a nationality was impossible.

Some of their wraps reminded her strongly of a rogue nin from the Hidden Mist her team had gone up against in their genin days. _Could these bandits be defects from Kiri?_

The clusters of small tents became tighter, and Sakura and her captor had to weave through a maze of canvas flaps, ropes and pegs before reaching a large dusty fire circle. Several more men, all in the same fatigues and face covers, were settled around the circle, reclining on benches or lingering at large, flat boulders.

Across the dusty expanse, past the circle and it's tenants, a wall of large campaign tents stood silently. There seemed to be more rows of them, indicating that perhaps this was a headquarters.

The large tents were neatly organized and ominous. It made her breath catch in her chest. This was no band of desperate ambushers. This was an organized group with a military command center, not unlike Konoha's field garrison she remembered studying in her academy days.

Sakura's eyes darted around the circle. And these men were going to great lengths to conceal their identities—

She didn't have time to draw any more conclusions. She was parked unceremoniously on a long wood bench near the guttering fire. Her escort left her briefly to speak in hushed tones to another man standing at the edge of the circle. The other man nodded, then disappeared into the thicket of little tents.

"You're a medic nin, right?" her captor asked as he walked back over to her, eyes glinting as if he already knew the answer.

She turned her head away and set her chin. She'd give him no information.

"Right," he filled in for her firmly. He moved closer to get a better look at her face, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Or were you just out picking flowers to bring back to your teammate?"

Her stubborn expression yielded for a moment, but her escort had the confirmation he was looking for.

"You're not very good at this, are you?" An obvious smirk was stretching the face wrappings around his cheeks as if he couldn't resist taking her down a few pegs. Folding his arms over his chest, he began again. "You're in luck. We are in need of a medic. So if you're better at healing than you are at subterfuge, you might make it out of here."

"That's all you need — a medic?" Sakura hissed. "Why didn't you just get one in the local town? You can't be more than a half-day from a village."

He laughed at her. "Why do that when you made yourself available?" He ignored her other questions completely. She'd get no information out of him.

"No more talking. Time to work."

He removed the ties on her hands. Sakura rubbed her wrists and looked around, gauging at the same time if he wanted her to move and if there was a chance to escape. But there was a group of men approaching the bench, accompanied by the man her captor spoke to earlier. She sighed.

'Best to go along with this for now,' she thought.

"Here?" she asked her warden, who was now standing directly behind her. He nodded once in confirmation, and she turned to receive her first patient.

The man had a litany of minor wounds, scrapes, aches and pains. Sakura cloaked her hands in green light and shot a glance back down the line.

Probably all the same, she thought. But that was fine with her. She bit her lip, refocusing on the task at hand.

Sakura was glad this bunch was not in need of _real_ medical aid. Though she had been in med-nin training for well over a year, she was far from proficient. Anything above standard wounds and basic field first-aid was out of her grasp. Not from lack of skill, however — she simply didn't have enough time for training.

Grinding missions with her team left little room for anything else. She was happy to have finally found something she excelled at, but there wasn't really a place for a med-nin on their team.

And after this mess she would be even more behind in her training. Sakura sighed to herself as she finished sealing a cut. Sometimes it felt like she was doomed to fall behind.

Sakura mentally shook off the negative thoughts. She knew she couldn't let her spirits flag, not when she was basically a hostage in an unknown encampment. As it was, she happened to be very good at treating minor injuries, and these men were rife with them. Sakura told her patient he was finished and waved over the next man to sit down.

The day dragged on. Minor lacerations and kunai wounds blurred together under her glowing hands. But the sheer monotony began to prey on Sakura.

_If this was what they brought her here for, then how long would she last in their camp? How many bandits needed to be healed? Would it be enough time for her team to find her?_

_And once they had no use for her as a medic.…_

Well, she didn't want to think of that.

But that thought gave her a measure of clarity. Perhaps it wasn't so bad to be working on minor ailments, she thought as she looked down the long line.

Sakura waved the next man on, testing out whether she could heal and inflict injury at the same time. A small flick of her hand sent the chakra bending in ways she knew it shouldn't. The man flinched immediately.

Sakura cooed, "Ooo sorry, I should have told you that might pinch a little."

She let the chakra ebb from her hand and he felt better, but the damage had been done. And now she knew how far she could go. She patted him on the back and waved on the next man.

Sakura plodded away, healing then creating her own injuries on the rogues. With a little flick of extra chakra she gave them all parting gifts, mostly internal lacerations, which would require her attention in the days to come.

Whatever plans they had for her, at least she was building in her usefulness.

'Better to be needed than to be dead,' she thought darkly.

Obviously having nothing better to do, several of the men stood around and watched after they received their treatments. The kunoichi resented the audience, especially with what she was trying to accomplish, but there was nothing she could do.

Sakura continued on, treating a wound then inflicting a new one, but eventually she could feel the first effects of chakra depletion kicking in. Sakura tried her best to remember ailments and inflict an injury that corresponded to the spot, but a few times she forgot.

One of the men pointed out that his wound was on his arm, not so close to his collar bone as Sakura had moved. She coughed, moved her hand smoothly away from the spot and put on her best doctor's voice.

"Of course, I'm just making sure there's no extenuating damage," she said.

The injured man seemed placated with her excuse, and she finished healing the area he had pointed out. 'No extra injury for him,' she thought.

When he stood, Sakura wiggled her fingers and stretched her arms as if tired, buying herself some time to check out the cluster of men loitering behind her.

She recognized about a half-dozen of the men as ones she'd already treated — some she'd injured again, some she'd spared. She glanced face to face quickly, then skimmed over body language, careful never to let her gaze rest on one spot too long.

She saw nothing to cause her alarm. They seemed just as shiftless as ever, standing in little throngs, hands on hips, muttering to each other and grimacing at the world. Apparently her exchange with the last man had gone unnoticed.

Sakura let out a small breath, gave her neck a final exaggerated stretch, then nodded to her warden. Clearly bored by the whole thing, he lazily shifted his stance and waved on the next patient. Sakura stuck to healing only on the next few men, just to be safe.

And eventually, to her relief, the line dwindled. She was beginning to worry her chakra reserves would run out before the line did. But as her last patient stood to go, and no more presented themselves, she drew in a deep, tired breath. She felt like she'd been the only doctor on duty after the hospital's busiest day.

"Am I done?" Sakura said, stretching her back. This time she didn't have to fake it.

"Looks like it." Her captor stifled a yawn behind her. "Give me your hands."

Sakura defiantly put her hands in front, certain he meant to tie her hands behind her back again, but he bound her wrists together in front without a word.

He pulled her up, and they walked back to the campfire where several of the recently healed men were lazing. Sakura was parked on a stone in full sight of them, so she couldn't run, while he disappeared between the tarps. He quickly reappeared with two apples.

"Here, eat," he said, shoving the apple into her bound hands. "You need to keep your strength up."

Sakura looked at the apple wedged between her fingers with growing defiance. Healing their men and gathering information may have served her purposes, but eating their food seemed traitorous, no matter how hungry or chakra depleted she may be.

Sakura dug her fingernails into it's red skin. "Don't worry about my strength," she said firmly. "I won't be staying long."

Beside her, her jailor had plopped down, loosened the concealments around his mouth and was happily crunching his apple.

"Huh?" he responded mid-bite.

"I said I won't be here long. My partner is the best ninja in Konoha, and he will stop at nothing to find me—"

Laughter erupted beside her. A few of the men looked up.

"You mean the one you whipped before you left your little _hideout_ ," her warden said exuberantly, pointing his half-eaten apple in her face. "Yeah, he'll be right along after you, I'm sure."

More of the men looked over, and her escort, seeing he had an audience, related the kunoichi's prank on her teammate. She sat stonily, ignoring his goading and the chuckles of the men. But she still felt like a mouse being toyed with by a cat.

Some of his teammates did not see the humor however. They snorted and hurled quiet insults instead. Sakura turned her head a fraction to catch some of the dissenting voices.

"Another foolish prankster with nothing to offer."

"Yeah, like we need another..."

"Leave it to him to waste our time—"

"Boy's been fooled by a pretty face—"

A half-eaten apple skidded past Sakura's feet. The digs were aimed at the man beside her, and by his quick response she could tell they'd found their mark.

He was up, fists clenched and feet planted sturdily beneath him, ready to retaliate.

Most of the men laughed off his anger, but a few stared back challengingly. Sakura took note of the strife in the group. She might be able to use it to her advantage later.

Her warden started to move, clearly considering taking on a few of the grumbling men, when a shift in the air sent almost all of them into a more alert stance. The rogues sat or stood quickly, jettisoned whatever time-wasting occupation they had, and adopted the closest appearance of a band of soldiers she'd seen from them yet. But there was something a little cowardly in their expressions they couldn't quite hide.

However her warden was not so quick to jump to attention. He registered the chakra change as well, but he lazily retraced his steps to stand casually beside Sakura.

The rest of the bandits reminded her forcefully of errant school children about to be disciplined. But the one beside her was not distressed at all. Hands shoved carelessly in his pockets, he seemed resigned to waiting and watching the space between the large tents,

She set the apple aside and followed his gaze, curious to see who could illicit such a response from this bunch.

A man fluidly rounded the corner, his black cloak rippling at his calves as he walked. He padded so smoothly across the dusty ground that his shoulders and limbs were nearly motionless, giving him the disconcerting appearance of gliding. There was a grace about him that was rare even among shinobi. Skilled in stealth, Sakura was just summing up, but she stopped suddenly as his face came into view.

His features were horribly familiar: pale skin, flat black eyes, glossy dark hair. His face had a pallor which gave him a menacing air, rendering the elegance of his movements into something infinitely more terrifying.

This man was a killer. And she knew exactly who he was.

Sakura flattened her nervous hands in her lap.

Black eyes swept over the group — the flicker of a frown told her that this scene was not what he expected — and landed back on her companion momentarily. He nodded at the man beside her, black wisps dancing along his face, then shifted his emotionless gaze a fraction to settle on the her.

A long dark ponytail trailed down his shoulder as he tipped his chin to assess her.

Sakura quickly looked down, focusing on the ground past the edge of her shoes. Even though his man was a nightmare version of her stormy teammate, Sasuke, she still prayed that somehow she was wrong about his identity.

The silence was punctured by the sound of gravel crunching beside her as her warden shifted his feet, coughed once and sighed. He was clearly unflustered by the scrutiny.

Sakura sat frozen on the stone, trying to keep her palpable fear concealed as long as possible.

With barely a whisper preceding them, the tips of two black sandals came into line in front of her feet and stopped. The fabric of a his cloak curled into the space between them. Sakura swallowed involuntarily.

"What is your name," a low voice addressed her as calmly as if she were a child who had wandered into their camp.

But Sakura did not trust his smooth tones. She kept her gaze trained on the ground.

"Are you a teammate of Sasuke Uchiha," he asked again patiently. And again she gave no response.

"Well then, do you know who I am?"

Sakura sat painfully still. _Of course she knew who he was. How could she not!_

In front of her was Konoha's most dangerous nukenin. The one who slaughtered his entire clan, save one. He was Itachi Uchiha.

Sakura pushed her fingers against her legs to keep them from trembling.

Itachi squatted down in front of her and steepled his fingers. Never changing his voice, the raven-haired man moved directly into her eye line. Sakura's only response was fear-driven: She knew what was coming next and shut her eyes.

He slid his fingers into a clasp. "You may open your eyes," he said, still speaking as if she were a child. But the patience was gone from his voice. Now there was an edge that meant he expected obedience. "I can see you've had some experience with genjutsu, but it will not be necessary today. Open your eyes please," he ended firmly.

Sakura took him at his word, truly afraid of the consequences if she didn't, and opened her eyes. But she focused on the ground beyond his shoulder.

"There's a good girl," he drawled.

Even if she tried, Sakura could not have stopped her lips from pressing into a thin line at the condescending remark. She flicked her eyes involuntarily to his face.

Itachi nodded almost imperceptibly, signaling that she had given the desired response to his provoking remark.

"Sasuke is my little brother, and I have an interest in him," Itachi continued as if they had resumed their pleasant conversation. "I would like to know how he is doing and how his skills are progressing. You and I are from the same village, I am sure we will find we have many things in common. Think about what I've said, and we will speak again later." He rose in a single fluid movement.

Sakura swallowed hard and stared at the ground where he was crouching, her body frozen in disbelief, her thoughts a whirlwind. _Itachi Uchiha._ This was no ambush for ransom! This was a targeted attack by Konoha's most feared rogue nin.

Sakura forced her expression to stay blank, desperately trying to mask the horror that was bubbling up within her.

Itachi spoke to her warden, issuing orders with a measure of respect.

"Katsuro, make sure she eats. If the apple doesn't suit, then find something that does. And don't waste any more of her chakra on them," he motioned with a careless flick of his long fingers to the men across the fire circle. Each one was alert to the little nuance as if their lives depended on it. "She is now your responsibility. Make sure she arrives safely. It is of the highest priority."

Her captor, this _Katsuro_ , agreed, and Itachi strode back to the large tents, disappearing completely into the shadows.

"Come on," yawned Katsuro.

In shock, Sakura blindly followed him, putting one foot in front of the other, oblivious to everything else. Her mind was racing: _Why was Itachi here? What could he want to know about Sasuke? And what information could she possibly provide him?_

She didn't trust any of his little speech. He didn't want to talk with her — he was a murderer! This was really, really bad.

Fears leaping out of control, Sakura tamped them down, shakily telling herself to think, to come up with a new plan—

"Here we are!" Katsuro's voice cut across her thoughts. She blinked, slowly realizing just how far they'd walked from the main camp.

"These will be your accommodations while you're with us," he said and fanned his arm out toward a clearing. A single tent and a tiny fire circle sat at the base of a few large trees. Sakura stared at it, a little confused that she'd be given her own tent, until she realized that he was pointing to the trees.

"What!?" she said indignantly. "You're going to tie me to a…to a tree?"

"Yup! Take your pick." He dropped his pack onto a log as they passed the fire circle. "Can't just have you hanging about the camp while I'm gone, now can we?"

Sakura glowered at him, cursing his cheerfulness. But maybe two could play at that game….

"So…where are you going," she said, lacing her question with wide-eyed innocence.

He just laughed and kept walking. Katsuro pointed to a tree nearest the tent and backed her up to it. He held a length of rope at her waist and flung the rest around the back of the tree.

"You might want to have a seat. Standing out here for a few hours is not going to be very comfortable," he said and wrapped the rope loosely around her midsection.

Sakura ignored him. "What are you—"

"Sit down," he ordered and pushed a hand down on her head, forcing her into sitting. Sakura huffed, but angrily folded her legs underneath her.

Katsuro took up the slack in the ropes and checked the tension. Sakura thought for a moment if this was all he was going to do, tie her by the waist to a tree, then she'd be out of here the moment he turned his back.

But when he unwound the leather bindings from one hand then walked back behind the massive trunk again, all hope of an escape was squashed.

"Ok," he said brightly from somewhere behind the tree. "Now reach your arms behind you and give that tree a big ol' hug."

Sakura growled at his infuriatingly good mood. But before she had a chance to tell him off, he called out again.

"Do it now, on your own," he warned, "and I won't tie it too tight. Trust me," he laughed lowly, "that's the much better option."

He was right, there weren't too many options here. And she could probably strategize better in comfort than in pain. So Sakura slowly lifted both arms behind her and wrapped them around the tree, palms flat against the bark.

"There you go!" She could hear the smile in his voice. He obviously pleased with himself. It made her want to pull her hands back out of spite.

Katsuro tied them back behind the tree as loosely as possible. There was freedom enough to flex her arms but not enough to escape.

Walking around front again, he squatted down in front of her. "Don't worry, I won't be gone long. But you can stay like that for a while and still be OK. Believe me, I know." The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. Sakura just scowled back at him.

Katsuro stood and impetuously reached out a hand to tousle her hair, thinking wickedly it would make her even angrier. He wasn't disappointed. She jumbled curses and wrenched her head away, pulling her hair with her. Katsuro relaxed his hand, distantly aware of the coolness of the strands as they slipped through his rough fingers.

"Well, be good," he said cheerfully, then crossed the clearing and ducked under the tent.

Sakura was left alone with her anger…and her fears.

'That is probably what they want,' she thought darkly. 'We are our own worst enemies.'

She tried to use her time to strategize her way out of there. But she soon found that thinking about Itachi drew a near insurmountable level of fear, so Sakura opted to review everything she'd learned, names she'd heard, the size of the camp, how many tents there were, the food they ate, anything and everything…and commit it to memory. She was on her third round of repeating the same data, when the man — _Katsuro,_ she thought robotically, _my height, brown eyes, bad sense of humor_ — emerged from the tent.

This time, though, he had traded his brown fatigues for a more pale attire, as well as what looked to be a traveling cloak. When he turned fully, checking a few things, she got a better glimpse of his head covering. Instead of the cloth that draped over the top and back of his head, the fabric covered fully half of his face and was positioned with a Suna headband. The goggles were discarded completely, although the wraps still concealed his facial features.

'Sand,' Sakura thought to herself. 'They're disguising themselves as other villages.' But immediately Itachi's involvement sprang to mind, toppling the easiest theories. It seemed unlikely that he would be part of a gang ambushing lowly merchants, if that was in fact what they were doing.

Katsuro saluted her briskly then was off, bounding up into the tree and leaping from branch to branch back toward camp.

Sakura was alone again.

After what felt like hours of repeating the same information, the steady chirp of a nearby bird distracted her.

"Birds," she said, just to hear her own voice. Where her team had been situated there had been no sounds at all. Every creature had decamped in the heat. So where was she exactly? Sakura set to studying her surroundings to keep her mind occupied.

The trees around the camp were no different than the ones along the old road. But the air here was not as stifling as it had been the past several days. And the landscape was definitely more rolling and hilly. This meant that she had traveled quite far from her team. But she couldn't tell whether it was farther north or just higher into mountains.

Sakura leaned her head back against the tree and stared out at the empty campsite. It was so far from the rest of the tents that she couldn't even hear the group.

She looked longingly at the undisturbed woods beyond the little tent. Light slanted down through the trees, gossamer spiderwebs glistened in the branches, and tiny insects took to the air, their wings illuminated in the late afternoon sun. Her freedom was right there in front of her, but she couldn't take it.

More slowly than she ever thought possible, the sun sank below the hill and took all the colors of the forest with it. Sakura felt her spirits slipping away with the dying light.

Around her the nighttime forest was rattling to life. The riotous chorus of crickets and tree frogs was only drowned out by the occasional buzzing of an insect at her ear.

Sakura strained her eyes for as long as she could, willing the forest scenery to stay in front of her. She memorized the edges of trees, praying those would not dissolve into the murky, misty darkness that was fast descending on her. But eventually it did.

Tipping her head side to side and rolling her shoulders, Sakura closed her eyes and breathed in the cool air. But when she opened them again there was simply nothing left to see. The dense forest canopy had smudged out even the moon and stars

Hanging her head tiredly in front of her, nothing to focus on in the darkness except her own predicament, Sakura's resolve slipped away entirely.

She began to ache for her home, regret her decisions, doubt her abilities and wish for her teammates to come.

They wouldn't want to, she knew, and would do it only out of obligation. Sasuke was sure to demand retribution after this scrape, especially since she whipped him so soundly in the forest. Now she cringed at the memory. But she'd happily bear the brunt of all his anger and any future punishments they might dream up, just to be with people she knew and on her way home.

Sakura puffed air up the front of her face, fanning her hair back and blowing insects away, but the buzzing began again momentarily. Shaking her head hard, she flexed her arms frustratedly against her bindings.

If it had been _Ino_ tied to a tree instead, Sakura thought petulantly, her teammates Choji and Shikamaru would have stopped at nothing to get her.

A mental rundown of the other teams produced the same results. They all had a bond that she was never able to attain with her own team. It wasn't about fighting well together — they were willing to go through hell for one another.

But now, utterly alone, in enemy hands, facing the horror of betraying her teammate to the man he hated most in the world, doubt was nagging at her.

Sakura tried to imagine them sprinting through the canopy, searching desperately for her. But that image rang false.

What if they went home for reinforcements? Then help might not come for days. And she didn't think she had days to wait.

She bit her lip. Would her team really leave her…her friends, abandon her? Were they right now, on their way home...without her?

She shook her head ruefully at the thought. Sakura knew she'd already hit upon the truth: These weren't her friends. They were barely teammates. And she had no guarantees.

Her sensei had always harped about bonds. But now Kakashi's words hit home — that bond was not for the good times, it was for the bad times. It was something to cling to in a time of danger.

Sakura hung her head and leaned forward against her bindings. She remembered what she'd been taught at academy, sitting in neat little rows in that sun filled classroom, about the beauty of the Konoha fighting strategy. She could hear her Iruka-sensei's inspiring voice, filling up every corner.

"You are bound to someone who would go to the ends of the earth for you, to protect you or to save you."

Sakura squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, not wanting to remember anymore. Because it was clear now, what she had waited for, _hoped_ for, was never there. For all her team's genius and skill, that vital strategy — the bond of friendship — had never been developed.

A few tears streaked down the sides of her cheeks. She understood too late the precious value of that camaraderie. It could be the difference between life and death.

Wet drops pattered onto her knees. The cold feeling reminding her she still had legs somewhere under the clinging darkness. Sakura squeezed her hands to keep the feeling in them. The bindings creaked like mooring ties, anchoring her mercilessly to the old tree.

But maybe all hope wasn't lost, she thought darkly. Maybe Ino's team would come for her.

Sakura tried to laugh at the irony, but it came out as sob. So she tipped her head back against the tree, closed her eyes and let the tears come.

* * *

Far away, across the dark forest floor, among the roots of another ancient tree, dry leaves crackled in the stillness. Any signs of occupation were cleared away. Backpacks were hoisted on.

The momentary whisper of fabric on fabric was replaced by the rhythmic crunch of footfall on gravel. Two pairs of feet retraced the worn path back down the forest road.

Silence descended again on the forest. The branches of a woody shrub, a bush which had until recently served as a shelter, slowly eased back into their natural position. All except for one long limb. Snapped off and carelessly discarded, it now lay wilted and dying in the empty woods.

* * *

 **Author's notes:** Thanks so much for the notes and reviews! Check the website for more spoiler notes (link in bio).

* * *

**Chapter Notes:**

• _As if reciting from one of her academy books, she recounted the symptoms of genjutsu sickness and recovery time. Since it wasn't too deep, she thought, pausing to swallow then take a steadying breath, she should be feeling better shortly._ — One aspect of this story is the give and take of power. Using jutsus will have a cost to the user, and undergoing one will incur a physical cost on the victim. One that far outlasts the length of the jutsu. So even though Katsuro's genjutsu only lasted moments, for Sakura the physical duration is hours of unconsciousness. There will be more about these give-and-takes of power. Each skill will have an equally significant downside.

 _• She tried to use her time to strategize her way out of there. But she soon found that thinking about Itachi drew a near insurmountable level of fear, so Sakura opted to review everything she'd learned, names she'd heard, the size of the camp, how many tents there were, the food they ate, anything and everything…and commit it to memory._ — Sakura never gives up, even when she's terrified. I think memorization would be a big part of her shinobi skillset (and one she is definitely skilled at), so I have her falling back on those to keep her spirits up.

 _• Silence descended again on the forest. The branches of a woody shrub, a bush which had until recently served as a shelter, slowly eased back into their natural position. All except for one long limb. Snapped off and carelessly discarded, it now lay wilted and dying in the empty woods._ — Little bit of a call back to last chapter with Katsuro plucking the green leaf off the branch. But this time, it's the branch from their hideout, the last physical remnant from Sakura's time with her team.


	3. Harsh Words

Sometime during the night, the bindings on Sakura's arms dropped away. Her hands slipped down the rough sides of the tree trunk. She blinked several times. The nighttime veil was so thick she didn't know if her eyes were open or closed. But she had the vague sensation of a body beside her in the darkness.

Dots of pressure suddenly danced up her arm then melted into a warm hand. It rocked her shoulder back and forth gently.

"Come on," a low, extremely tired voice said above her head. "You can't sleep like this." But she didn't move.

"It's _me_ ," Katsuro repeated, exasperation seeping in to his voice. "Come on."

Sakura already knew who it was. But it wasn't from fear that she didn't move.

"My waist," she said, her voice sounding thick and tired to her own ears.

"Oh yeah," he exhaled.

Momentarily, the ropes dropped across her lap. The hand returned to her shoulder. Fingers dragged back down her limp arm and wrapped around her wrist. Katsuro materializing beside her and helped her to her feet.

"Come on," he said again, stifling a yawn.

She walked blindly behind him, stumbling several times. Her legs and arms felt like they were attached to puppet strings, and her hands burned with the rush of blood.

Katsuro stopped suddenly, his hand tightening on her wrist to prevent her from toppling over. She heard the rustle of fabric and had only an instant to register that they were at his tent before he moved forward and his hand tugged her downward. She resisted involuntarily, body half bent at the tent opening, a thousand objections raising in her mind.

"Look, I've got an extra blanket," came his muffled voice, muffled from somewhere behind a canvas flap, prepared for her argument. Fabric swished and his voice became clear again. "I'll tie my hand to yours, that way we can both get some sleep."

Another insistent tug on her wrist, accompanied by "duck your head," was the only warning she got before she was dragged forward into the tent.

Sakura had a moment of dizziness, muscles feeling waterlogged and her equilibrium swimming from the darkness and disorientation. But it passed as she found the ground and came to a more natural sitting position. He pushed a thin blanket roll into her lap and let her get adjusted.

After a moment he asked for her hand. He wrapped the binding around her wrist, then his own, leaving a few inches slack for comfort. Satisfied, he slipped beneath his own blanket.

"I can't let you sleep out there," he yawned. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Sakura said nothing, instead stretched her aching limbs under the old blanket. A small yawn escaped. The sweet relief in her muscles and the need for sleep quickly overtook all her objections.

After a few moments, Katsuro's drowsy voice interrupted the stillness. "Just…just don't tell anyone about this." Then his breathing slipped into the steady rhythm of sleep too.

* * *

Sakura woke up alone the next morning. Sun dappled the canvas walls of the musty tent.

She quietly sat up, stretched, then rubbed the binding still tied to one wrist. Now she had time to examine the worn brown strap a little more carefully. Sakura pooled green light at her fingertips and sunk them into the fleshy leather. Just as she suspected, the leather absorbed her chakra as if it were a sponge.

Sighing, Sakura carefully leaned forward and peeked out of the tent. Her movement didn't go unnoticed. A loud "Oi!" rang out from the direction of the tiny fire circle.

'Ugh,' she thought, and pulled the flap back.

"Good! You're up!" Katsuro stood. "Let's get something to eat."

Sakura looked him over. Katsuro had returned to his brown fatigues and face-concealing wraps from the day before, the pale Sand cloak and head gear he wore last night were draped over a log. He nodded at her impatiently, urging her on.

In short order, she found herself seated on one of the large smooth stones at the main campfire, balancing a small bowl on her knees.

"Eat," was his only instruction.

Their entrance to the main camp had not garnered much attention, and Sakura made as little eye contact as possible. A quick glance around showed the rest of the men similarly dressed as Katsuro. Some were eating, some were sharpening their weapons. A few were competing for who could pitch rocks the farthest. What a shiftless bunch, she thought as Katsuro walked over to observe their contest.

Sakura pushed the lumpy, grey masses around her bowl, unsure if it was meat or vegetable or rice. Or some unholy combination of all three. She wished she'd saved the apple from yesterday.

Stubbornly quelling her hunger, Sakura dared another look to see how everyone else was faring. Did they really eat this stuff everyday or was this just reserved for hostages? Several emptied bowls indicated it was served to everyone. She looked back at her own dish and grimaced. Maybe she'd go without, she decided. She clasped her bound hands together behind the bowl and sat quietly.

Across the circle, a burly man called out her judgement of the food. "Look at her! She don't like our food! At least we're feeding her, the ungrateful little…."

Sakura squared her shoulders, ignoring them. In her peripheral vision, she saw Katsuro whip around quickly, frown first at the man, then at her body language. But he turned away as if it didn't matter to him.

Sakura relaxed her shoulders a bit. It was a small victory but she'd take it—

"So as I was saying to Fumio," Katsuro continued a little louder. "There were absolutely no signs of the Leaf nins."

Sakura froze. She held her breath and listened hard. When no other information followed, she cut her eyes in his direction. Now several of the men were watching her. Seeing that she'd been baited, Sakura resolved to ignore him. She looked back down, pretending to study study her fingernails.

But this only goaded Katsuro further.

"Nope, I don't think they are going to come for her after all. And we've been watching for them," he said a little louder. "Even at the farthest outpost there hasn't been the slightest sign." A few men shrugged and went back to their occupations.

Katsuro took his bowl and walked back to where she was sitting, swaggering slightly. But his gloating proved to be too big a target for the other men.

"And who's fault is that?" the burly man sneered. "If you had opted for someone of skill and usefulness rather than just a pretty face, then the big boss would have what he needed by now, wouldn't he? Eh, Fumio?" The rail-thin man sitting beside him laughed meanly.

Sakura glanced up. Katsuro was walking toward her, eyes blazing, shoulders tight. But he refused to turn around and address them.

So these men had it out for him. And he knew it. Interesting, she thought, watching the bowl tremble in his hand from being gripped too tightly.

Fumio, the skinny one, chimed in next. "Right, Raiden. If Konoha can abandon her so easily, then she's not worth anything to us either. But that's on your head now, isn't it Kat-su-ro…." He drawled out the name maliciously.

"Bastards," Katsuro growled. He slammed the dish down on the rock beside her, flipping the food out everywhere. Sakura leaned sideways to avoid flying clumps, but Katsuro could care less. He had already turned, fists clenched and was stalking back toward the other nins, shoving the sleeves up his forearms. "If you have a problem—"

"Katsuro!" a man's voice boomed from the edge of one of the large campaign tents.

The rest of the men immediately turned away and quickly disappeared into the thicket of tents. None wanted to get caught up in whatever discipline might be meted out to him. But the biggest of them, Raiden, and his hatchet-faced partner, Fumio, hung back to laugh at Katsuro before they left with the rest.

Katsuro halted. Fists still ground closed, he grudgingly watched the men disappear, then turned and stomped toward the voice. Little puffs of silt rose up around his feet as he crossed the circle.

In the shadows was another man, this one dressed in dark fatigues. He didn't wear face concealments, but Sakura still couldn't distinguish any unique features. He never left the line of tents, opting to speak to her captor in hushed tones.

They must have been speaking about her, Sakura decided, because the other man pointed discreetly in her direction a few times. Whatever was said though, her warden didn't agree with. Katsuro frustratedly swept his hand where the rogues had been lazing, then jerked his head back at her, obliterating all discretion. The man simply shook his head and pointed firmly towards her, before returning to the large tents.

Sakura heard Katsuro mutter, "Hai, Taichou," before storming back over, eyes down, deep in thought. His cheerful demeanor had completely evaporated.

"Up," he snapped, and hooked a hand under her elbow. He hauled her to standing in a single motion. The uneaten bowl of food slid sideways off her lap and spilled in the dust at their feet.

Katsuro angrily stepped over the mess and marched her back to the little campsite in silence.

* * *

Sakura had very little to occupy herself with over the course of the day. And the decline in her captor's mood didn't ease her boredom.

She was returned to the spot at the tree without a word from Katsuro except "sit." Sakura wasn't sure what had happened, if the cause was his teammates, his superior or her. Or a combination of all three. But she decided the best plan would be to quietly obey.

He disappeared for a while, then returned with a cache of weapons and laid them all out for inspection, cleaning and sharpening whichever ones needed work. Sakura watched him methodically going through the tools, surprised to learn he carried identical weaponry to the shinobi of Konoha.

He worked so diligently for so long that Sakura had stopped paying close attention until a little movement drew her notice.

Sharpening a knife against a stone balanced on his leg, Katsuro unconsciously scratched the wrappings at his cheek then returned to his work. Eyes half-closed, Sakura kept only a dull focus on Katsuro. She was mildly surprised when he rubbed his face again. After the third time, she was observing him keenly and forcing herself to maintain the look of abject boredom.

Irritated with the interruption to his work, Katsuro slid his fingers under the wrappings, hooking them to pull them down around his neck, when he stopped suddenly.

Katsuro cut his eyes over at the silent girl tied to the tree nearby. He frowned, clearly just remembering that she was there. He sullenly pushed his face wraps back into place and continued his work.

Sakura sighed and slumped her shoulders. There was no reason to hide her disappointment now. She sighed loudly and lolled her head from side to side.

There were other breaks in the monotony, although those were equally as unwelcome as playing morbid games of guess-your-captor.

Injured men trickled into the little campsite throughout the day. They came, one by one, begging for a little relief from the general malaise that mysteriously plagued them through the night.

Katsuro refused each one of them, growing more irritated every time. Eventually he could barely get another kunai sharpened before he was interrupted again.

"She won't heal you! Go away," he bellowed finally at just the sound of footsteps coming through the woods.

Sakura held her amusement in check. She pointedly ignored the first men who started dropping by, not wanting to contribute to captor's foul mood.

But when the same men began appearing a second time, each looking beseechingly around Katsuro to Sakura and holding their stomachs, she knew she would have to deal with them. And the sooner the better. As the pain increased so would the amount of men hanging around the little campsite.

When a man came a third time and Katsuro nearly lobbed his kunai at him, Sakura spoke up.

"It's no problem," she called over to him. Katsuro whipped his head around to glare at her. Her bravado left her for a moment at his fierce look, but she cleared her throat and started again.

"It's no problem to take a look at them. It doesn't take much chakra," she said.

She tipped her head and waited for his response, but he turned back to his work, ignoring both her and the offending patient shuffling on the other side of the fire circle.

"You know, it might just be a cold," she offered innocently, knowing full well that it wasn't.

He didn't look up. She changed tack.

"They'll keep coming back, you know. All night long, too," she said warningly. The man clutching his stomach nodded vigorously.

"If I can treat them now, it won't be too taxing," she said, hoping he would see the wisdom of letting her loose for a little while. He angrily pitched his newly sharpened kunai toward the pile. It embedded itself in the dirt, handle trembling. He reached for another to sharpen.

"But," she drew out, "if I have to wait until the middle of the night, when their pain is much worse…." She sighed for effect. "Well, it will be harder for all of us."

Katsuro growled and angrily threw the unsharpened kunai into the finished pile. It clanged loudly when it hit. He stomped over to the girl, never making eye contact, and ripped the bindings loose from behind the tree.

Winding back around to the front, Katsuro glared at her. "Do what you need to do. Then get him out of here," he said, pointing to the man across the site.

She nodded once, looking up at him with large green eyes and an expressionless face. It was a carefully constructed mask to cover her triumphant feeling.

She went into med-nin mode and set right to her task. Silently pointing to a fallen tree to sit on, Sakura began to examine the rogue, taking extra time to work her way around to what she knew was his particular injury. Katsuro silently fished the dull kunai out of the sharpened pile and resumed his work.

Soon another man appeared, clutching his midsection, hoping to press his luck with the unhappy Katsuro and his captive medic. Another came, then another. Before long, word had spread through the unwell that Sakura was accepting patients, despite Katsuro's foul mood.

She instructed them where to sit, in order of symptom, thinking merrily to herself that she was the source of their problems. Back at home it had always suited Sakura to be working. But now she was doubly grateful to have a task to occupy her time, knowing that the alternative was being tied to a tree.

Katsuro resumed sharpening his weapons and ignored them all. Sakura and the rest of the men gave him a wide berth.

The previous day, Sakura had tried to vary the injuries she inflicted, but they all presented in the morning with symptoms in the same area. This was acceptable, she thought, because they would suspect a minor virus before looking any further. However, it would limit how much more damage she could do without giving herself away.

She set about easing the pain of the largest complaints and prolonging the unwell feelings of those least sick. This would buy her a little more time, but not as much as she'd hoped. Biting her lip, Sakura sheathed her hands in healing chakra and refocused on injury in front of her.

Nearby, relishing the silence and meditating on the uniform smoothness of the newly polished weapon in his hand, Katsuro thought about the fragments of his day, shattered before it had even begun. Exhaustion followed by no breakfast, the antagonizing bastards at camp then receiving marching orders. He set the weapon down and reached for another kunai.

It stung that he was the only one to get punished when those men clearly deserved a good thrashing. And then for the old captain to say that Itachi was not pleased and that it would take longer to get anything worthwhile out of her…. Katsuro shook his head in disagreement.

But both jabs were essentially the same: That he made a poor choice in selecting her. That he had been swayed by a pretty face and her little prank.

Katsuro watched the kunoichi quietly work on his companions. The edges of her slender hands glowed a soft green. A curtain of pink hair tipped forward over her face. She paused, caught the offending lock and curled it behind her ear, then returned to her work, never breaking concentration.

Looking down at the kunai in his own hands, Katsuro hooked the loop with his fingers and spun it around a few times before sharpening it.

Sure, his assignment was to pick someone from the same team as their target, Itachi's younger brother. And he thought her pulling a prank on her teammate was a good sign. And yeah, he supposed it didn't hurt that she was much nicer to look at than the rest of his bunch.

But that wasn't why he chose her.

Katsuro thought back to the first time he saw her, all pink hair and pale skin, tumbling out of that pathetic hiding place. Her arrogant teammate standing aside to let her fall. But she picked herself up and gave it right back to him. Yeah, he laughed softly to himself, he could understand that, .

Katsuro ran the kunai through a cloth in his palm, the dull grey edge polished away. Now a thin bead of silver gleamed down both sides of the blade.

He pictured her wicked little smile before she whipped her teammate, knowing that it was a triumph, if only just a small one, over someone who so clearly had it out for her.

'I think she knows more than she realizes,' he thought with his own small smile. 'Those kinds of people should never be underestimated.'

Katsuro pushed all the other thoughts away. There was no doubt in his mind he'd made the right choice. If Itachi needed more time to retrieve information from her, then so be it. He plunged the weapon into the soft earth and reached for another.

Sakura worked quietly through the late afternoon, hands glowing in the deepening shadows. A few times she noticed Katsuro pause and look over, but she assumed it was to make sure she wasn't going to escape. He carried on as if having a hostage heal men in camp was the most normal thing in the world. But being left alone seemed to improve his mood, she decided.

A metallic clang drew Sakura's attention. She looked up from a patient to see Katsuro had dropped his last sharpened weapon onto the pile. He stopped a recently healed man on his way out of camp and spoke to him quietly. The man nodded once then departed, and Katsuro came to stand at her shoulder and watch her work.

"How much longer will it take?" he said softly, in between patients.

She looked down at the last few men. "Not too much longer."

"How are you holding up?"

It wasn't a personal question. Sakura remembered Itachi's command to refrain from healing the men. Katsuro was checking to make sure she hadn't gone beyond anything noticeable.

"Fine," she said crisply. "I haven't wasted too much chakra." Katsuro just nodded.

'Well,' she thought with a small sigh, 'at least he wasn't blistering mad anymore.'

Katsuro repacked his weapons in his rucksack then squatted to start a little fire for extra light. Sakura waved over the last patient. He sat in front of her on the fallen tree, facing her, and pointed to his collarbone.

But the sound of a twig snapping interrupted her work.

Out of the evening gloom, two more men approached the campsite. Sakura thought they might have been straggler patients, but the two stopped just beyond the fire circle.

She recognized them immediately: Raiden, the tall, burly one from the main camp who had given Katsuro some problems and his lanky friend, Fumio, looking even thinner in his ill-fitting fatigues. Fumio twirled something cylindrical in his hand.

They had a threatening air about them. Unsure if it was a trick of the low light, Sakura cut her eyes at Katsuro. One look confirmed it.

Katsuro rose slowly from the sputtering campfire and stared them down. Hands on his hips, he anticipated trouble. She was in agreement. These men were up to no good.

After a few moments, Raiden nodded to his companion. Fumio stepped forward with what appeared to be an important-looking scroll. He rolled it tauntingly in his long thin, fingers.

Katsuro exhaled and broke the stand off. He stepped toward the man, hand opened expectantly. But Raiden snatched the missive out of Fumio's hand before he could toss it to Katsuro.

"No food," Raiden drawled. "Looked around, couldn't find anything." His tone made Sakura think he probably didn't look very far.

"But Itachi left you this," he said, and pitched the unfurling scroll to Katsuro.

Katsuro narrowed his eyes and thumbed the broken seal, then angrily flicked it open with one hand.

Half-hidden by her patient, Sakura silently observed the scene from her seat on the fallen tree. She had slowed her healing to keep the glow from her hand as unobtrusive as possible. But there was still a faint pulse in the darkness.

The man she was working on seemed as nervous as she was. His breathing had increased and, flaring the chakra at her fingertips for a quick read, his vital signs were subtly ramping up. He kept darting his eyes back over his shoulder, anxious to see what was going on in the darkness behind him.

Sakura flicked her gaze back out to the fire but was surprised to find Raiden's intimidating glare fixed squarely on her. A little more green chakra seeped out past the her fingertips from the perceived threat, illuminating her face slightly. The man's fist tightened.

"What's _she_ doing," Raiden growled, pointing in her direction.

Her patient's heart rate spiked, but Sakura clamped her hand down on his shoulder to keep him from bolting.

"Almost done," she murmured. She wanted to keep him there until this was all over. He was a good shield in case a fight broke out. And if his fluttering heart rate was any indication, he was well aware of his vulnerability too.

"I wonder what Itachi-san would say," Fumio began, "if he found out she was—" Katsuro cut him off.

"Since you've already taken the liberty," he said, shaking the opened scroll, "alert the rest of the men, and be ready tomorrow. And when you tell him about the _her_ ," he said, thumbing back at the girl, "make sure you tell him you opened his scroll too. He'll be _very_ interested to know!"

Furious, Raiden spit at the ground just in front of Katsuro's feet. "You're nothing special," he sneered.

But Fumio apparently thought otherwise. He backed away as if a fuse had been lit.

The firelight cast strange shadows across Katsuro, wavering over his trembling fists and tight shoulders as if strapping him back. The red glow of the flames reflected dangerously in his eyes, rendering them almost inhuman.

"Get out of my sight," Katsuro said, biting off every word, his voice nearly hoarse from restrained fury. Raiden must have decided he'd pushed Katsuro far enough. He laughed meanly and swung around to go. But he shot a scathing look at the kunoichi before he tromped loudly back through the woods.

"You're done," Sakura said flatly to her patient and lifted her hand from her his shoulder. The man nearly tumbled off the log in his hurry to get away from there. He cut a wide swath around Katsuro and the campfire.

Sakura watched the space between the trees where the men disappeared and quietly weighed her options.

She could take advantage of Katsuro's preoccupation and make a break for it now. But if he caught her, he'd probably kill her just out of spite. Or she could press her luck and strike up a conversation with him, and perhaps her sympathy could earn her a little more trust and freedom. Then she could truly slip away undetected.

Sakura made her choice. She dusted her hands and walked to the small fire. Katsuro stood unmoving, staring into the low flames, hands still balled into angry fists.

Sakura silently meditated on what she'd learned. They hated her, naturally, but they seemed to hate him too.

Her stomach growled suddenly, and Sakura raised a hand self-consciously to her stomach. Katsuro snorted at her, but her discomfort seemed to distract him from his present anger. He turned and left her standing at the fire to stow the scroll in his pack.

Sakura thought this was probably as good a time as any to pry for information.

"So…. Are they supposed to be your teammates?"

The only response was the clinking of weapons together in his rucksack.

"Why are they so hard on you?" Still no answer.

She sighed. If he didn't want to talk to her, then maybe she could draw him out another way.

"In my village, the emphasis is on teamwork and partnership for maximum—"

"You were just playing ninja then," he said quietly, still kneeling at his pack. "Now you're in over your head, and you don't even know it."

"What?" she said frowning. That wasn't the answer she was expecting.

"Your village, _Konoha_ ," he bit off the name, "is fully aware of your capabilities, or _lack_ of them, and have already labeled you a missing nin." He refastened his pack and stood to face her. "You are not worth coming for. And your spot on that inept little team has probably already been filled."

Sakura looked stricken for a moment, then waved him off. He obviously had no idea how a strategic military force worked.

"Don't be ridiculous. There is a protocol for retrieval," she said condescendingly. "My teammate is one of the strongest in our village. I'm sure he and my sensei are on their way right now."

Hands on his hips, Katsuro laughed mirthlessly at her.

"If you were stupid enough to get caught, then make no mistake they will never come for you." He rounded on her, his voice chilling. "They will forget you and leave you to die by our hands. And if your _Sasuke Uchiha_ is so strong, then they would never send him to fetch his irresponsible teammate. He is a tool to be closely guarded by the Leaf and used only for their purposes."

The kunoichi clenched her fist and stepped away from the fire, feeling unreasonably warm.

"You know nothing of my team or of Konoha," she growled back. "They will never give up. They're on the way right now."

Katsuro's only recently cooled anger flared right back up again.

"No! It is _you_ who know nothing about your own village. How they throw away the ones who do not serve their purposes or crush the ones who stand in their way." Dark shadows pooled on his face.

"You think so highly of your team? Well let me enlighten you as to why you, a medic-nin who cannot even watch her own back, were paired with an elite clan member. You were put on that team as the _target_."

He was speaking quietly but he might as well have been yelling. The horrid truth of his words were sinking in, and her defiant facade was crumbling.

"You are the weakest one, so you're the one to be taken out first, alerting him so he can escape. You're the one who falls into the trap laid for him. Your life will be extinguished so that your teammate will live. Think your village is so great now? Your duty is to be the sacrifice. You are expendable, replaceable…." He locked on her wide green eyes to drive the point home. " _Forgettable_."

"And it's our bad luck that we're stuck with you now."

She blinked away tears and shut him out, whipping her head away toward the fire. Words had left her.

 _No, no, it couldn't be true._ She shook her head in mute denial, pressing her lips together to hold back the tears.

Katsuro watched the revelations crash on her, his cooling anger replaced by disgust at his own behavior. She was just a pawn as well. There was no victory here.

Yes, he hated Konoha, he hated what they did and how they treated people like her, crushing those who did not serve their purpose. But he also hated the way he sounded when he was talking to her, brutal and unforgiving, an echo of the other men in his camp.

"I wasn't lying when I said there's been no sign of them," he continued quietly. "Whatever life you had before, it's over. Whatever you did for your village, whatever sacrifices you made...well, it wasn't enough. They're not coming for you."

Katsuro drew a tired breath and ducked inside the tent, leaving her alone by the fire.

It would have been an opportunity to run, but Sakura couldn't move. Her world was collapsing in on itself. Everything he said made perfect sense. The inequity of strength and skill, the way they treated her as the dead weight on the team.

Sakura's tears glinted in the flickering light. Her shoulders dropped. Her whole body seemed to be sinking under the weight of it all. Her captor had finally left her alone, but his implication clear: She wasn't even worth guarding any more.

She had been abandoned, and she knew it now.

A gravelly noise broke through her haze. Katsuro stood beside her with a thin blanket roll in his hand.

"Sleep in there," he said quietly, pointing to the tent. "I'll be out here. We're leaving in the morning."

She wiped her hands down her face and silently went to the tent, feeling more alone than she ever thought was possible. She crawled under the blanket, pulled herself into a ball and wept.

Outside, the fire crackled and hissed. Katsuro put anything he could find into the tiny inferno, trying dispiritedly to drown out the sound of her crying in the darkness.

* * *

**Chapter Notes:**

• " _Katsuro!" a man's voice boomed from the edge of one of the large campaign tents._ — This little bit shows his Naruto side of balking at authority. The man who is giving orders is a captain under Itachi. No one important, but it's mentioned to help illustrate a little of the heirarchy of the group. It will help Sakura understand how the group operates, and what Katsuro's role in it is. More about that in upcoming chapters.

• _"It would have been an opening to run, but Sakura couldn't move. Her world was collapsing in on itself. Everything he said made perfect sense. The inequity of strength and skill, the way they treated her as the dead weight on the team."_ — Sakura has to see her village from his point of view, question it, feel some doubt. It allows her to bond with him in the short term, and forces her to come to some strong decisions about who she supports in the long term. A village and it's policies, for better or for worse, or a rogue who's never lived by anyone's rules but his own.

• _Outside, the fire crackled and hissed. Katsuro put anything he could find into the tiny inferno, trying dispiritedly to drown out the sound of her crying in the darkness._ — when puts anything into the fire. Katsuro will have a hard time with her crying. He hates to hear it, thinks it's weak. But it is more about his experiences than it has to do with hers. More to come.


	4. Ambush

Sakura lay in the tent a long time, watching the walls turn from leaden gray to the dingy ash color she had become familiar with by daylight. She had memorized every crooked seam, every dangling thread, every smudge of dirt.

Lifting fingers into the air dejectedly, she examined her peeling, filthy fingernails. Sakura had prided herself on keeping her hands clean, that it was the mark of a good medic. Now she simply didn't care. None of that mattered anymore. Her life before was completely out of reach now. He had made that abundantly clear.

She flopped her hand down on her stomach. Tears slid out of the corners of her eyes down into her hair. Instead of wiping them away, she turned on her side, twisting the blanket with her. She hated that awful musty smell it had. It smelled of, well, someone else. Not her.

Footsteps crackled in the leaves somewhere across the campsite.

And she didn't care about him either, she thought with a sigh. She wasn't moving. Wherever they were going, well they could go without her. She felt as worthless as that decrepit old tent, and they might as well just bury her in it.

Feet padded to a stop outside the tent, dull shadows dimming the light.

"Time to get up. Hey, uh..." Katsuro began cheerfully, but his voice thinned. He was obviously puzzling over something.

"What's your name?" he croaked finally. Sakura rolled her eyes. She could almost picture him scratching his head. His head covering, she amended.

She didn't want to answer him. She squeezed her eyes shut, stayed very still and hoped he would go away.

"Hello in there," he shook the top of the tent a little. "You awake?"

"Go away," was her muffled response.

"Hey, what's your name?" he asked again, undeterred.

Sakura was silent for a long time, weighing her options, before she muttered, "Ino."

"What?" he said and began shaking the top of the tent again. "What did you say your name was?"

"Ino!" she shouted, flipping onto her back and slapping her hands on the blanket. "I said my name is Ino! Now...just...go away, and leave me alone," she sputtered.

Katsuro just laughed at that, which angered her even more, then he jostled the top of the tent one last time.

"Well come on, Ino. It's time for breakfast, and we're not going to miss it today," he said.

She heard him walking away and thought maybe he was going to leave her alone for a while, till his voice lilted back across the campsite, "Come on out or I'm coming in after you." She could hear him laughing in the distance. At least his irritatingly good mood had returned, she thought.

Sakura studied the tent ceiling a little longer, then sat up slowly and pushed the blanket off her legs.

It was petulant and stubborn and stupid, and she knew it, but she didn't want to go anywhere with him. She wanted this nightmare to be over. And she wanted it to be over now.

Sakura scrubbed both hands over her face. She knew it was fantasy to think she even had a choice. She wasn't a hostage, there was no ransom or promise of her return. She was a prisoner, and she had to go with them. Resistance was simply not an option.

Drawing hands up under her hairline, she methodically kneaded the muscles down the back of her neck. She felt tired, black-and-blue tired. Like she'd been in a fight, and she'd lost.

Sakura reached for her boots, slipping them on slowly, one at a time. She didn't want to give up, but she didn't see how she could go on. There was no clear path in front of her, she thought, rubbing grime from the black leather in a futile attempt to bring back it's shine.

But, maybe if she went she could find a way out of this mess, she thought. She straightened her shirt and checked the fasteners on her skirt.

Maybe everything he had said about her team, her home, had been lies. Dirt-smudged hands stilled over an open clasp. It didn't feel like it though. She snapped it closed and wiped away the wet tracks of tears from the corners of her eyes, thinking again that she would just like to bury herself under the musty blanket until the whole world fell away.

Sakura's stomach growled traitorously.

Maybe she should just put one foot in front of the other, she thought. Eat. Then find a way out of this.

The kunoichi pushed the tent flap back slowly to find Katsuro waiting for her. He had returned to the Sand disguise, with the addition of a full travel cloak. The pale fabric bunched around his neck and fell fluidly down his back, just skimming over the ground as he walked toward her.

"C'mon," he said cheerfully. "If we don't hurry, then we won't get to eat today either." He pulled out the leather bindings, and she grudgingly pushed her hands out in front of her. Her warden wrapped them together then looked up into her face, "And I'm sure your starving."

Katsuro's brown eyes peered at her earnestly through his face coverings, almost apologetically, and Sakura wasn't sure if she imagined it. But if it was an apology, then it was the only sign of any lingering guilt on his part about last night's harsh words.

Breaking down his camp was the work of a moment. He left behind most of his things for someone else to gather, and shrugged on a light travel pack under his cloak, strapping the thin blanket roll to the bottom.

Within minutes they were on their way back to main camp, but this time Sakura noticed they passed through much more woodland to get there. Only when they arrived at the wall of campaign tents and the large dusty fire circle did she realize that all the other small shabby tents were gone.

"Where did all the-" she said, looking around at the deserted woods and most noteably the lack of lazing men at the campfire. But Katsuro cut her off, nudging a spare bowl of lumpy gray food into her hands.

"Everyone's gone already. They're moving this camp. It happens from time to time. In a few hours this will all be underwater," he said, carelessly flicking his hand at their surroundings.

"But there's no water," she said. Sakura hadn't heard any streams nearby.

"No. Flash flood," he intoned, but offered no other explanation. "Well, eat up!"

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, picking at the food, the gray lumps and the strange meat, until she finally deigned to nibble on some of it. He couldn't help but smile a little at her change in attitude this morning. A few days without food would do that to you, he thought, picking up his own chopsticks.

They ate quickly and in silence. The kunoichi managed to eat about half of what he'd dished out for her.

'Good,' he thought, 'she'll need her strength.' He didn't know when they would get a regular meal again once they left.

Minutes later, they were off, disappearing into the tree line opposite the fire circle. Sakura cast a last look back over her shoulder at the encampment. If she had any hopes of being found, then being on the move was going to make it that much harder. She sighed, watching the sunlit clearing of main camp dissolve behind row upon row of brown and grey trunks.

Trailing behind Katsuro, connected only by that little leather binding, Sakura could not find a single defining mark on the winding route they were taking. The forest was undeniably vast, but her warden seemed sure of himself. Every so often he would turn sharply at a tree or a rock, so she knew they were not as lost as it appeared.

They traveled for what felt like miles, climbing over gnarled roots, hopping across puddling creeks and sliding down leaf-thick slopes.

Finally the ancient trees broke their ranks and allowed for some undergrowth. With the broad forest of the campsite long behind them, the land now rolled under their feet. Thick bushes and large boulders scattered below the old trees slowed their pace, but the kunoichi was on high alert.

The landscape was achingly familiar. Sakura kept watching the forest, looking for an opening between the trees. She could feel that they were near the old road, although she'd not caught sight of it.

Katsuro's eyes were also roving over the woods around them, Sakura noted. She wasn't the only one watching for something.

Tightening his movements, Katsuro made hardly a sound as they moved across the crumbling leaves. Sakura licked her lips and was poised to ask what he was looking for, but a curt hand signal from him silenced all communication. So she resigned herself to following his actions, adopting silence and stealth as well.

Their progress suddenly ground to a halt. Katsuro quietly crouched down behind a boulder, then tugged her down beside him.

"Be alert," he whispered. "We don't want to get killed."

They were very near the road now, though he didn't know if she had seen it. From where they were, it should just be over the next small hill.

Shoulders brushing, he turned his head to study her closely, looking for any signs she might try to run, but she was already acting on what he'd said. Green eyes scanned the woods for anything out of place. He could nearly read their surroundings in her face, eyes darting from tree to tree, sweeping the canopy then the forest floor.

He was pleased she was taking this seriously. He wasn't kidding, either. These men could be brutal, and he didn't want to open either of them up to a "mistake" that could end their lives. He wouldn't put anything past them.

A twig snapped up ahead of them. They turned their heads simultaneously toward the sound.

"That's our sign," he said. Slowly and quietly, they trekked down the back of the hill, moving away from the still hidden road, taking care to stay concealed.

The pair hiked down into a shallow ravine between the two hills. Sakura looked up the steep sides to the bushes arching over the top. The path was flattened and well hidden. 'Good for ambushes,' Sakura thought wryly. If this is here, then the road can't be far away.

A large tree had fallen and pulled one wall of the slope down into the gulch with it, leaving a gap with a wide view of the surrounding area. To continue down the trail, they would have no choice but to scale the log. Katsuro crossed the tree first and stood atop the pile of crumbling earth on the other side of the tree, waiting for her to follow suit.

Sakura flattened her hands on the bark, but didn't move any further. Instead, she shot a glance back over her shoulder and down the length of the tree. Beyond it's grasping airborne roots, Sakura could see the entire woodland valley unfolding. The kunoichi sucked in a shallow breath.

Slips of gold glimmered through the mottled green landscape. The old trade road wound teasingly in and out of view, curling around trees and bobbing over hillocks. Sakura's heart lifted. This was the thread that connected her to home.

'I knew it,' she thought triumphantly. If she could get to the road, then she could escape. She could be seen, and she could be found. No, she amended, remembering the previous night's despair. _That road meant she could find her own way now._

The kunoichi swung her head back, flexed her elbows and prepared to vault over the tree, feeling more alive and hopeful than she had in days. Her mind was just whirring to life with plans when a shadow fell across her fingertips and halted everything.

She raised her head only to find Katsuro's unyielding face just inches from her own. Brown eyes narrowed slightly, and he gave her a long, hard look, almost daring her to try something.

Momentarily surprised at his sudden, threatening closeness, the kunoichi's anger immediately overruled her common sense. She shot a challenging look back for a fraction of a second, before she dipped her head to reorganize her thoughts.

Focusing on her hands, Sakura told herself picking a fight with him would do no good. She needed to keep her cool and find a way to escape. The kunoichi tamped down her anger and slowly swung one leg, then the next, over the tree, not trusting herself to look up again.

They scrambled down the ravine, then hiked back up another one, before stopping below a large rock outcrop. The rest of his group were there, silent and swiftly making what looked to be travel preparations, all dressed in the same pale garb and traveling cloaks.

"Have a seat," Katsuro said, pointing to a nearby spot out of the main pathway. Sakura silently leaned back against one of the large boulders and watched the activity around her. Men came and went with empty rucksacks and weapons. One stopped to apprise her warden of who they'd seen so far traveling on the old road, describing their loads in great detail.

The empty sacks, the weapons, the disguises... They're preparing for an ambush, Sakura realized. She wasn't sure before, but now there could be no doubt that these men were the ones targeting the merchants, the men she'd been assigned to find.

Sakura watched the rogues and thought with chagrin how wrong her team had gotten it. They had been staking out flat land farther down the valley, looking for peasants. Yet these men, looking as authentic as any Sand shinobi she'd ever seen, would never have been suspected of any wrongdoing.

Just then, a low whistle sounded from the top of the outcrop. All were silent, waiting. Sakura didn't know what to expect. But it was quickly followed by another whistle, and all the men relaxed a little. Whoever was passing was not who they wanted.

A tall, thin rogue hopped down from the highest boulders. Sakura recognized him as Fumio, one of the troublemakers from the camp. She watched him warily.

Katsuro stood speaking to another man and Fumio would have ignored him completely, but Katsuro held out a hand to stop him. Fumio shrugged carelessly but didn't stop. "It was just an old monk," he said as he passed.

But noticing the kunoichi seated beyond them, Fumio immediately changed directions to stride closer to her. Too close. So close that his boot spattered her with clumps of black dirt and leaves as he passed. He cut her a nasty look, making sure she knew it was no accident.

Sakura glared defiantly back, but he deflected it with that same careless look he'd given Katsuro and strode on as if nothing had happened.

Dusting off the bits of dirt, Sakura returned to her surveillance of Katsuro, only to find him looking from her to Fumio and frowning deeply. But the man in front of him required his attention, so Katsuro shook off his distraction.

"Uh, yeah…take the next one with a full load. We need to get moving."

The man nodded and left, and Katsuro approached her, grabbing the bound leather between her wrists and pulling her to her feet.

"You need to carry your share," he said, pausing to draw out a long piece of tan fabric from a nearby rucksack.

Sakura nearly fell over. A Sand cloak fluttered in front of her, and Katsuro deftly whipped the top of it around her neck, leaning in close to clasp it under her chin.

Her mind reeled. They wanted her to participate in this crime somehow. She'd have none of it.

"Absolutely not—" the kunoichi began, leaning away from him, but he wasn't interested.

"You don't have a choice," he said, and clutched her elbow through the cloak.

Katsuro directed her around to the top of the outcrop with a firm admonishment, "no more talking."

But what seemed like the top was actually just the natural crest of a small hill, sloping gently away from the road. It was the ravine behind them that was deceptively steep.

They dropped down behind a few large boulders, perfectly positioned above a long dip in the trade road. She understood it all now: A merchant would be forced to slow his speed here, and Katsuro's men would descend and block him in. Then they could easily escape with their haul by retreating back into the network of sharp, deep trenches. The rogues would be nearly impossible to track.

Sakura looked across the anonymous forest landscape and shook her head. Her team never had a chance of finding this group.

A jingling sound suddenly rang out from beyond one of the little hills that framed the low section of road.

Katsuro hastily grabbed the bindings again and pulled her down behind the boulder.

Skidding in the dirt on her knees brought momentary pain, but any other thoughts were eclipsed by an entirely different feeling at her wrists. The straps around her forearms bunched and overlapped, and cool air licked at the exposed strips of sweat-moist skin.

He had unwittingly loosened her bindings.

Sakura's heart banged in her chest at the realization. She felt light as air. This ambush was her moment to break free, she thought. She licked her lips and scanned the area nervously, clutching her fingers to keep them from trembling.

"You ok?" Katsuro interrupted her, looking tensely over her face and at her shaky hands.

"Mmmm," she hummed through her lips, nodding to reinforce it.

'He must think I'm nervous about the ambush,' she thought. She nearly laughed at him, giddy from excitement. He nodded back slowly, still peering at her through the dim light behind the boulder.

The crunch of a wagon wheel at the top of the hill drew everyone's full attention. This was what his group had been waiting for. The men around her were focused, tense, drawing weapons of all kinds. Sakura was busy making calculations about who would be going where, how much time she would have, and which way she would run, waiting breathlessly for her opening.

The donkey, perhaps sensing trouble, stamped and pulled against its harness, refusing at first to enter the threatening low spot in the road. But the driver urged the animal to follow course, and soon enough the cart was lurching down the hill and into position.

She heard a male voice from somewhere down the row of hunched men call out, "Heavy load. Full wagon, look how it's swaying. This is the one."

"No," Katsuro uttered next to her. " _No!_ " he called to the men desperately, but he was too late to be heard.

"Let's go!" barked a few others in the group, drowning out Katsuro's voice. Rallied by the cries, the men tore off down the bank, weapons at the ready, circling around the unsuspecting travelers like a pack of wolves. The ambush was in full swing.

Sakura couldn't find the source of Katsuro's alarm until a tiny movement drew her eyes immediately to the front of the cart. Pale skin flashed from under the edge of the tarp covering the wagon bed. A little hand, followed by another, grasped at the two drivers, then retreated back to the safety of their hiding spot.

Two little heads popped out this time, arms reaching for the man and woman. They quickly disappeared again upon hearing the commotion. Katsuro must have seen them somehow while the rest of the men were sizing up the load.

Sakura's throat went dry. These weren't wealthy merchants, this was a family.

Katsuro wrapped his hand like a vice around the medic's wrist and bolted out from their hiding spot, hauling her down the slope with him.

Jumping quickly from the cart, the father brandished a small knife and managed to threaten the rogues away from the back of the wagon. But it wasn't enough. The men who were creeping towards the front quickly switched directions and overpowered him, ripping the blade from his hand and forcing it to his neck.

The mother bore terrible witness to the men turning away from the cart to attack her husband. Her screams did not alert him quick enough, and the sight of him being threatened drew her out as well. In near hysteria she tried to climb from the seat, begging them to stop, only to lose her footing and tumble into the road.

The scene unfolding before Katsuro was going from bad to worse. He had been hurrying toward the wagon, hoping he could keep the rest of the family contained while he retrieved the husband, but his hostage was dragging on him, slowing him down.

"Damn it," Katsuro said, eyes never leaving the father. The biggest rogue, Raiden, eager for a fight, was rounding on the man, shouting threats and flashing another kunai menacingly in his face. Katsuro knew he had to get to there before they killed him.

As he passed the wagon, moving swiftly to the action, Sakura pulled against her warden, stooping to extend her elbow down to the mother, reflexively trying to keep her calm. The woman clutched her arm, panic stricken, desperate to stand and get to her husband.

Frustrated with her delay, Katsuro slid his hand fluidly from the medic-nin's wrist to the bindings and gave a hard jerk, hellbent on pulling the girl away from the crying wife—

When it all unraveled in his hand.

The leather binding whipped around, free of its prisoner, and the wife tumbled into Katsuro. The woman clung to him, trying to pull herself up.

Katsuro couldn't believe what was happening. He tried to push the woman off, frustratedly looking for the girl who just vanished into thin air. But the wife wouldn't release him, instead pulling on his arm in desperation, sobbing for them to spare her husband.

Sakura felt the binding slip off in a single motion and acted immediately. This was the opening she had been waiting for.

Two steps ahead of her captor, she darted under the cart. Sakura had already decided to use the melee to her advantage. She would leap from the other side of the wagon into the trees. As soon as she could, she'd alert others in the area to their troubles, she told herself.

Sakura flattened herself against front corner of the cart, opposite where she'd left Katsuro standing.

"Get off of me!" she heard the rogue nin yell from beyond the wagon, and she knew this was it. The kunoichi turned for a last furtive glance down the cart and bent her knees to launch, when the edge of the tarp tipped up beside her.

A large pair of eyes peered out from the darkness. Her eyes widened as well.

'Oh no,' she thought. The children. What was she thinking? She couldn't leave. She couldn't turn her back on them.

Sakura heard the wife scream again. She tightened her fist. _This was all her fault._ This poor family was attacked because the rogues were moving her.

"I'm scared," came a voice from the darkness.

She could hear scuffling, someone was approaching. She was running out of time. She had to do something...

The adrenaline that had coursed through her veins at the thought of her own escape now fueled another plan. She pushed back the tarp, shoved her arms down into the darkness and scooped up the two children. They looked all of two and four years old. Both clung instinctively to her arms as she whirled away from the cart. If she was going to run, the kunoichi decided, she was taking them with her.

Settling a child at each hip, Sakura dashed to the front of the wagon. Trying to stay ahead of the approaching footsteps, she cut close to the donkey's head, giving it's dangling reins a good shake as she passed, intentionally trying to spook it. He reared a little and stamped backwards, rocking the wagon and forcing anyone behind her to avoid the wobbling cart.

Now in the open, she sprinted toward the other hill and didn't look back. The cloak whipped mercilessly around her boots.

"Go!" the father's voice rang out through the air. "Take the children! Run!"

The father's outcry silenced the threatening rogues momentarily until they realized she was escaping, then they unleashed an onslaught of curses at her. But Katsuro's voice carried over all of it.

"Stop," he boomed up to her from beside the wagon. "You're not going anywhere!"

She hesitated at the crest of the hill. Beyond her, the road twisted relentlessly through the woods, flat and empty. It slipped around a tree and disappeared.

Behind her somewhere the mother sobbed. The children wailed miserably at either shoulder.

"Don't move," Katsuro yelled.

'This isn't going to work,' she thought. She couldn't run and get away now, and leaving the mother and father behind was certain to be a death sentence for them.

Little hands knotted in the kunoichi's cloak and feet dug in to her ribs. Squirming out of her arms, the children reached back, bawling for the parents.

Sakura shut her eyes. Someone was going to suffer here. Either the parents or the children, or both. All because of her.

Itachi's words to her captor suddenly came to mind: She was the priority. Sakura opened her eyes.

She knew she was more important to them than any pathetic ambush attempt.

No, she couldn't run, she thought, but she wasn't just going to hand them over. Not when she still had something to bargain with.

Pulling the children around in front of her, shielding them with her body, she slid the them down one at a time to the ground.

"Don't move," she whispered. They clung to each other.

Sakura pivoted quickly on the spot to face her captor, letting the cloak billow into the space between herself and the children, effectively shielding them from the violence. Hands on her hips, hair whipping around her face, the kunoichi drew in a breath and tried to look as formidable as she could. She frowned down at her warden, then shifted her gaze to survey the scene through calculating eyes.

The men looked at her, their cold intent plain on their faces. Even Raiden dropped the knife from the father's throat to watch Sakura, while the mother pulled against her captor to clutch at her husband.

Katsuro, who had been steadily stalking towards her, stopped at the base of the little hill and looked up, waiting to see what she would do.

"Is this who you target? Families?" she yelled at all of them finally, starting her plan in motion. "If you'd just asked, they'd have given you everything," she taunted them.

Her warden took another step, but Sakura responded with a movement of her own. She bent her knees slightly, widened her stance, tightened her hands into fists at her sides, and leveled her gaze directly at Katsuro. The message was clear, she was ready to fight.

The kunoichi lowered her voice and said warningly to him, "I won't let you touch them."

"Get back down here," he matched her tone, annunciating every word in anger. Sakura sized him up and shook her head at him slowly. She was going to offer an alternative, but the rest of the rogues had other plans.

Intending to break the standoff by force and punish the girl for her insubordination, Raiden shoved the wife to the ground and replaced the kunai at the husband's throat.

"He'll pay for your insolence," Raiden snarled up at Sakura. He fisted a hand in the father's hair and tightened his grip on the weapon.

"Just let them go," the father pleaded desperately, but his voice thinned. The blade at his throat pressed deeper, this time drawing a trickle of blood. The mother sobbed for them to release him.

"Stop it," Katsuro yelled back at them, anger flaring out now at his own men. "Leave those two alone."

But his teammates were in full rebellion. And Raiden saw this as his opportunity to take down Katsuro.

"If you can't handle her," he yelled, nodding at the troublesome girl atop the hill, "then what makes you think you can handle anything else, little runt."

Caught in the middle, Katsuro was forced to deal with what was clearly the more volatile of the two problems.

As he turned his back on her, Sakura could see her warden had balled his hands into tight fists at his sides. She wasn't sure if Katsuro could resist Raiden's baiting another time. And a brawl among the thieves was likely to result in innocent bloodshed.

Sakura knew she had to get control of this situation fast.

"Enough!" she yelled over all of them, hoping somehow her voice would carry. It did the trick, the men stopped their tirade.

"Let them pass unharmed, and I'll come willingly," she said. Katsuro snapped back to her, eyes wide in furious disbelief. The rest of the men scoffed. "Get what you want out of the cart, then send it down the road. Let the mother and father go, then—"

"You for them?" Katsuro cut her off. "Do you think we're bargaining here?" he roared, and advanced on her again. He seemed to be changing his mind, deciding to overpower her first, then deal the rest of the men.

Sakura bit her lip, pushed away her fear at his almost tangible intimidation, and told herself not to give up now. Behind her the children whimpered softly. If she were captured again then all her leveraging power would be gone. She took all the courage she had and threw it back at him.

"What's more important? They're stomachs or _your_ mission?" she yelled back, pointing at Katsuro to emphasize that it was, in fact, 'his mission,' using the overheard conversation with Itachi against him. Katsuro stopped again.

Sakura knew which one was the most important cargo here, and it wasn't the family or any of their goods.

"Me for them," she confirmed Katsuro's words. The kunoichi looked back up to the men menacing over the husband and wife. "Let them go," she said, nodding at the parents.

Katsuro still had not moved from his spot. Instead he just watched her, eyes narrowed angrily.

Sakura looked back to him, took a breath, and waited. She waited for him to either come after her or give a sign he would accept her terms. She didn't know what he would do, but she hoped this would work. She was out of options.

A quick glance showed her the men in the group were also waiting. Even after their minor power struggle, Katsuro still seemed to have the authority over these rogues.

Never taking his eyes from the kunoichi, Katsuro barked out new orders to the rest of the men.

"Get what you want," he called out. He paused before grudgingly adding, "Then let them go."

The men didn't act immediately on what he said — a few of them cut mean looks at the kunoichi, Raiden pitched the husband forward to land near the wife — but shortly they were stripping the cart of food and valuables.

Katsuro glared at her, but didn't move. Neither did she. It was stupidity on her part, he thought, trading her life for theirs. He watched her face, green eyes scouring every bit of movement, silently nodding to what he could only assume were the parents. Her pink hair fanned out a little in the warm midday breeze and she had slightly relaxed her fighting stance. The cloak was moving enough to allow little glimpses of the frightened children behind her.

She was right about one thing, Katsuro thought, running his fingers along his palms. She was more important than this misguided ambush attempt. And now she had them in a bind. He was counting on her word, but if she'd worked through all her options, then she knew there was no way to escape now.

'Damn her,' he thought. 'She's more trouble than she is worth.'

Katsuro slipped a hand under his cloak and searched for something in his pocket. Finally, his fist tightened around the leather strap. It creaked softly beneath his cloak, held at the ready if she had any thoughts of escaping. With the family out of the way, Katsuro knew he could catch her easily.

But at the top of the hill, the girl still stood unmoving, silently observing it all. Katsuro shook his head softly at the idea that she had single-handedly undone his plans. But he would never have given in to her bargaining if it had not suited him so well. If he can make her yield to force, he thought, the next few days will be much easier.

Itachi's platitude floated through his mind. "Better to yield to force than force to yield." It applied to Itachi's interrogation strategy, that it was easier to make someone give up information with a threat, while someone who is set against revealing secrets must be broken. But Katsuro was finding it handy here too: If he could make this one sacrifice and get her to go along with them out of obligation, then life for all of them would be easier.

It was a gamble, but as he watched her eyes dart over the scene, circling back to making sure he hadn't moved again, Katsuro had a feeling that the ridiculous Konoha sense of honor would play into his hands. Better to push a willing hostage up the mountain than drag a fighting prisoner, he thought.

The men finished emptying the cart of food and small items, then one called up to Katsuro, "Alright, here they come." The parents hurried toward the cart, while the ambushers disappeared back into the woods with their belongings.

"Don't move," Katsuro said to the medic firmly. "They'll come to you." Sakura said nothing.

The father fumbled for the reins, intending to walk up the hill alongside the wagon, but Katsuro stopped them.

"Get in. She'll hand the children to you," he said, then turned back to watch the kunoichi. He wanted to make sure there were no more opportunities to escape.

The parents complied wordlessly, and the cart rolled slowly toward Sakura.

Katsuro hadn't moved forward again, but Sakura didn't trust him. She had no intention of leaving, but she didn't want him to go back on his word. She watched him closely as the wagon rolled up the hill, mirroring his fierce expression with one of her own, only breaking off to pass the children over. She loaded them quickly into the cart glancing down at him warily, relieved to see that he still stood in the same manner.

The mother grasped the children to her chest, kissing them and sobbing thank-yous to the brave girl through their feathery hair.

"I'm so sorry," the father said, his voice thick with emotion.

"It's ok," Sakura reassured briskly, stepping back from the cart.

"C-can you tell me your name?" the father whispered.

The kunoichi involuntarily glanced at Katsuro. He knew exactly what had transpired and shook his head slowly, never breaking his threatening glare. He took a step closer, hand moving surreptitiously to something hidden in his cloak.

'They need to get out of here,' she thought.

She shook her head quickly then said, loud enough for Katsuro to hear, "I'll be fine, but you have to hurry. Don't look back. Just go." She gave them a tight smile, and hoped it was enough to convince them to leave.

The father thanked her again through tears, and the cart rumbled quickly off.

She watched the old road till they were at a safe distance, finally rounding behind a far tree and disappearing. Silence settled thickly over the forest. The few puffs of dust still hanging in the air were the only sign of a disturbance.

Grinding the road under her feet, Sakura turned her back on what might have been her escape route and looked down at Katsuro.

He was standing perfectly still, just a few paces away, waiting.

'Me for them,' she thought. She pushed her lips together. 'I failed my team, but I saved their lives. Hopefully.' There would be repercussions, to be sure, but now they were hers to bear.

She trained her eyes on the ground, forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, and silently closed the gap between herself and her warden.

Katsuro shifted his stance in anticipation, letting the cloak casually fall away from his outstretched arm. He slowly turned his fist, and the long leather strap dangled out of his hand. The kunoichi swallowed hard. The ends of it bounced merrily at the edge of her vision.

'Me for them,' she thought again, refusing to be intimidated. She was a ninja, after all, and it was her duty. But in that dire moment when she could have escaped and saved herself, she realized she was the only one who could save the family. She traded her life for theirs. Without hesitation.

On an empty road, filthy and worn, with no weapon and no hope of rescue, Sakura finally felt like a real kunoichi.

She understood the feeling that she could never quite grasp. It wasn't in a hair cut or an attitude, it was in the sacrifice. That was the silent mark of a ninja. The willingness to do whatever it took to save a life, to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Knowing that she alone could make the difference…. She wanted to live by that, to never forget that feeling.

'Me for them,' she affirmed to herself one last time. Yes, she could accept that fate.

Sakura closed her eyes, put out her hands in front of her and waited.

But her gesture to show she was holding up her end of the bargain wasn't enough to placate Katsuro. Instead he wrenched one arm, then the other behind her and bound both ruthlessly tight. Sakura bit her lip to keep from crying out, the pain bringing tears to her eyes.

He jerked the leather ties once to make sure she wouldn't get free again. Satisfied, he gave a hard push between her shoulder blades to start her moving.

"Let's get going," he called out to the rest of the men when they reached the tree line.

"No need in being stealthy now," he said, snapping dry branches as he stomped back into the forest. "If Konoha wasn't onto us before, they will be after this mess."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Thanks so much for reading! More chapter notes at my website (link in profile). Please read and review!

* * *

**Chapter Notes:**

_•_ _She heard him walking away and thought maybe he was going to leave her alone for a while, till his voice lilted back across the campsite, "Come on out or I'm coming in after you." She could hear him laughing in the distance. At least his irritatingly good mood had returned, she thought._ — Katsuro wakes up happiest when he has a mission. He's eager to head out, just like Naruto.

• _Slips of gold glimmered through the mottled green landscape. The old trade road wound teasingly in and out of view, curling around trees and bobbing over hillocks. Sakura's heart lifted. This was the thread that connected her to home._ — When Sakura gets a glimpse of the road the first time, I've described it in terms of the silk ribbon or vein of gold, bright and shooting promisingly through the trees. The description is in keeping with the happy feeling it gives her upon seeing it. This will contrast sharply with her last glimpse of it at the end of this chapter.

• " _She hesitated at the crest of the hill. Beyond her, the road twisted relentlessly through the woods, flat and empty. It slipped around a tree and disappeared."_ — The situation has changed. Sakura has to make a choice and not travel down her escape route. So the same place can look very different in a different light. It's now the escape route she _can't_ take. Thus the road is now a ribbon that's slipping away from her. I wanted to convey the loneliness, emptiness she felt at that moment, knowing it was rolling away without her.

• _On an empty road, filthy and worn, with no weapon and no hope of rescue, Sakura finally felt like a real kunoichi. She understood the feeling that she could never quite grasp. It wasn't in a hair cut or an attitude, it was in the sacrifice. That was the silent mark of a ninja._ — A lot of fics focus on the first kill, or some other really harrowing experience, as what pushes the characters to shed their genin-level idealistic views. But to me, Sakura is different from Naruto and Sasuke in that she's not overburdened with power. So Sakura's character evolution should not come from fighting/death. Her power is healing, giving her chakra selflessly to others. So it's only when she helps innocent people with no gain for herself that she levels up her thinking. In this moment, Sakura sheds her old ideas about herself as a shinobi, and even about her team and village. She's agreeing to be cut off from her former life to save these people. And thus, she can evolve into a more powerful version of herself. If, of course, she survives.


	5. The Climb

Pink hair flipping suddenly into her eyes, the kunoichi crashed forward onto her knees with a sickening crack. She had been channeling chakra to soften her falls, but this one caught her by surprise.

The moss-covered rocks were deceptively slippery, and Sakura had lost count of how many spills she'd taken. She'd remember this one though, she thought wryly.

Ignoring the burn searing up the outside of her legs, Sakura rocked at the waist and pushed hard with her thighs to leverage herself to standing. Her captor waited behind her, silently minding the leather strap that rendered her arms useless. Grit pattered down onto the dry leaves as she stood, but some of it stayed embedded in her torn, oozing skin.

She didn't know how much more of this she could take.

Scattered ahead of her on the mountainside, the group of rogues picked their way up the steep terrain. They were moving steadily across the unending slant of huge boulders and old trees to some unknown destination, so Sakura knew she must go on too.

A quiet cough rattled the air behind her, interrupting her respite. Sakura narrowed her eyes. The little noise meant her warden was ready to continue. With a sigh, she shook the last wisps of hair from her face and gingerly began again.

It had been like this all afternoon.

Upon leaving the roadside, the group and their prisoner traveled swiftly over the rolling woodlands, until the canopy of leaves grew dense and the undergrowth fell away completely. The landscape looked similar to the ancient forest she had been held in: all twisted roots and unyielding rocks. And though Sakura knew they were not returning to the encampment, there were no clues as to where they were heading. She had frustratingly lost all sense of direction in the diffused light.

They trekked in silence, moving nearly single file through the pathless forest. Around them, grey tree trunks shot up like pillars from the ground. Leaves crunched under foot, and the long cloaks, excellent for repelling sand in other climates, only snagged on the branch-littered floor.

A familiar rustle and snap echoed in the silence. It reminded her that the other men had free will to take off their cloaks. Blocking out the thought, Sakura wiggled her fingers behind her back, trying to catch some of the silky fabric and stave off the numbness that was slowly setting in. The only thing she managed to grasp was the length of binding that connected her to the man behind her.

Concentrating on her hands, Sakura didn't quite clear a leaf-covered stone as she stepped. It caught her toe, and she stumbled forward.

"Pay attention," her warden said flatly, gently tugging the leather strap from her fingers.

A low knocking sound ocassionally filtered through the dim woods. It was undefinable, and seemed to come from everywhere at once. Sakura thought they might be nearing their destination, and watched her surroundings for an encampment, but one never appeared.

They travelled on, the thrumming sound weaving in and out of the trees around them.

Sakura had despaired of ever finding the source when finally, hiking out of a root-lined trench, a sudden, dull roar filled the space in front of them. Their path had led them to deep, moss-lined stream.

A narrowing channel combined with a few large stones sunk in the bed forced the water to eddy and swirl loudly. It was the occasional sound of rushing waters that drifted through the trees, not telltale noises from a hidden camp.

Smooth boulders jutted out from the green banks, and the kunoichi thought they might stop for a rest or for water. But the men barely acknowledged the break in the monotonous landscape, simply turning and walking beside it, against the flow of the current.

Sakura tipped her head out of the line, looking upstream, and tried to determine their destination, but there were no signs of human habitation anywhere. The creek cut deeply through grey rocks, and more often than not, it disappeared completely under the shadow of its banks. Only the occasional flash of white froth along the edge delineated water from stone.

But its hollow, lonely sound stayed with them constantly now.

The terrain rose steadily as they hiked. Sakura tried to find shadows to determine a time of day, but barely any direct sunlight trickled down to the forest floor.

Their path beside the stream finally terminated at steep, rocky waterfall. That sound was unmistakeable, and the roar of splashing water was nearly deafening by the time they were upon it.

The water-slicked rocks on either side of the falls made Sakura feel downright queasy, and she looked back at her captor wondering how he expected her to scale it without killing them both.

He gave a quick nod toward the rogues in front who were already breaking away from the stream. Apparently there was a safer, secondary route somewhere down the outcrop. She understood, and they quickly fell in step behind the rest of the men.

It was slower going, but eventually they cleared the last boulder and returned to the placid waters upstream of the roaring waterfall. Sakura was unprepared for the dramatic view hidden above the falls.

The land from that point rose up and up, so steep in some places the kunoichi had to tip her face skyward just to see the edge. In front of her stood a massive ridgeline, and they were at the very foot of it.

Sakura peered through a gap in the canopy. A thick white cloud had just crested the ridge, and it looked as if it was snagged on the mountain itself.

Around her the sun streaked through the trees, and she was surprised to find it was not so late in the day as she had thought. Sakura understood now why the woods had been so dim: They were in the shadow of that tremendous mountain. She took a breath and relished the view. She was thankful to be out of the dark woods.

"Don't stop," Katsuro said behind her. It had been the first she'd heard his voice in hours, and she wondered if the long walk had cooled his temper any. His voice betrayed no emotion, so she couldn't tell.

Thinking it couldn't be much farther, not with how much they'd traveled already, Sakura crossed the lapping water and pushed her foot down on a wobbling boulder, eager to begin her trek up the mountainside.

But hours later, in the streaked blue shadows of late afternoon, with no end in sight to the uphill ordeal, Sakura reflected back on that dark valley and its lonely, winding stream with a little more kindness.

Her hair stuck irritatingly to the sweaty skin at her neck. The cloak was pinned beneath her bound arms, cooking her lower back with the extra layers of fabric, but in a cruel twist her hands were cold and numb. The parts of her arms she could feel were painfully swollen, and she was fairly sure a section of pinched skin near her elbow had worn into a nasty blister. Any movement hurt now.

Sakura tiredly looked up the slope, wondering how much further their destination could be, when she caught the edge of the cloak on her boot and stumbled. She thought she'd caught herself, but the rock she was pushing her weight on toppled forward precariously. The kunoichi skidded hard on both knees to stop herself from tumbling head-first off the boulder.

Crying out, she hunched her shoulders and tried to smother the pain. A few deep breaths later, and she thought she might be able to grind back onto her legs to stand.

But this time, Katsuro helped her back to her feet.

"Get up," he said quietly, hands at her shoulders. "We've still got a long way to go."

She struggled up, bits of leaves and wet moss sticking to the fresh scrapes at her knees.

Scattered up the mountainside, the rest of the group came to a halt too.

"You know," she said in exasperation, "if you tie my hands in front I won't fall as much."

Brown eyes studied her tired face as he silently weighed the safety of her request against how much time they were losing in this punishing march.

She was pale and sweaty, definitely worn out, but all he needed was a single glance to see that her determination was undiminished. He wouldn't underestimate her again. The kunoichi probably still had some fight left in her, he thought. But if she had other ideas, it didn't matter.

'She can't sabotage anything up here,' he thought wryly.

Above them, Katsuro could hear the men speaking to one another, repeating what she'd said.

Snickers floated down the mountainside.

"Hey, why don't you let me take her for a while, since you can't control her," Raiden called down to Katsuro. "Next she'll be asking you to carry her!" Several others laughed as well. It roiled him with fresh anger.

"Keep going," he yelled back. "We need to make it by nightfall."

The rogues were already turning to go before he'd finished his command, leaving the pair to find their own way on the crumbling slope.

Katsuro turned to the girl, unwinding the strap from her wrists. She pulled her arms around, flexed her elbows, and tried not to look at the angry red marks marring her arms and hands. The skin had puffed around the strap lines, and her fingertips were nearly purple. He tried to keep from cringing, and looked up to see how she how she was faring.

Her face was taut, eyes narrowed, mouth drawn. She bit her lip at some sharp pain, but continued to wiggle her stiff fingers free of the bindings in order to better inspect her injuries.

The girl brushed a hand up the inside of her arm, following a dry track of blood.

'Is she bleeding?' he thought with some measure of surprise.

Turning her arm fully revealed a mark just below the elbow where the strap had rubbed her skin raw. The exposed area, an arc the same width as the leather, glistened red and looked extremely painful, but it seemed to have ceased it's bleeding.

She sighed softly, dropped her arms, closed her eyes again and resumed the methodical open-and-close of her hands. The swelling was slowly ebbing, and her fingers were returning to their normal color.

Katsuro removed his cloak, shoving it carelessly into his rucksack.

"Do you want to take off your..." he asked, pointing to her neck. She nodded, but he was already reaching to unclasp it before her hands stirred at her sides. He slipped it off smoothly, moving as efficiently as he had that morning when he fastened it on her. The kunoichi's shoulders drooped. Perhaps she realized, as he had already, that her fingers would not yet be able to perform that simple task.

"Your knees," he said, nodding down to the debris sticking to her legs, before shoving her cloak into the bag too.

Frowning, the kunoichi carefully brushed the leaves and dirt away from the torn skin. She straightened and, with another wistful breath, pushed her arms forward expectantly.

Katsuro said nothing and set to wrapping her hands again, though not as tight. Watching her face, he could tell the pain was even more intense than before. She bit her lip and focused on the woods, eyes shining with unshed tears.

Angry welts crisscrossed her pale skin. It was a sharp contrast to his own hands, rough and calloused, now winding the strap back around her wrists. He ignored the twinge of guilt at his temper earlier that resulted in the too-tight bonds, but made sure not to wrap the leather so high up her arms this time.

'She's strong, there was no denying that,' he thought. Stronger than most of the jackals he was used to being around.

He tucked the rest of the leather into the gap between her wrists, and pointed for her to continue untethered ahead of him. If she was surprised, he didn't look up to catch the expression flicker across her face.

They immediately picked up the pace, the kunoichi proving much more agile on the unstable rocks. But Katsuro was only distantly aware of that, too.

He was busy meditating on her situation. That soft, feminine outtake of breath was what set it off, reminding him that she was, in fact, still a girl — and a Konoha ninja at that. He had little experience with either, he thought.

This pink-haired contradiction, this kunoichi, abducted then abandoned, was hiking up a mountainside with hardly a complaint, after going without food, healing a few dozen shinobi, withstanding Itachi's intimidating presence and thwarting their ambush.

Katsuro shook his head at the thought.

Fixing his eyes on the black boots climbing steadily in front of him, Katsuro tried to find someone in his history that matched up to those same strong, infuriating qualities. Was it bravery or stupidity she exhibited? He sighed. He just didn't know. Working to keep up with the girl, Katsuro entertained himself by mulling over her confounding actions.

Around them, the forest fell into dusky silence, and their burst of energy eventually began to wane.

Sakura thought it was because she was tired, but the rocks around her seemed to be increasing in size. Large round boulders were replacing the smaller crumbling ones they had stumbled over all afternoon. Some were grey and half buried under centuries of moss, while others still retained their yellow and brown striations, with very little debris.

And a few had unusually sharp angles to them, as if hewed by human hands from the mountain itself. She wondered about those, but stuck to climbing over the moss-covered rocks just to be safe.

By the time the shadows were melting together into darkening grey pools behind the trees, the shapes of the boulders no longer held any interest for Sakura. She'd be happy if she never saw another one again.

They were both feeling the effects of a full day of grueling travel, and Katsuro knew it was far from over.

Stubbing his toe for the third time and sick of hearing his own voice in his head, Katsuro decided to poke at his hostage instead. He knew it was against his better judgement, but he wanted to find out more about her, why she stuck up for that family back on the trade road. Just remembering it irritated him.

"We weren't going to kill them," Katsuro blurted out, his voice sending a bird flying from a nearby tree. "The family. We would have let them go."

He didn't get a response. Not even a movement. He would have thought she didn't hear him if they were anywhere else but an empty mountainside.

"You seem to think otherwise?" he called up to her after a few moments, watching her back for any sign of acknowledgement.

The kunoichi still didn't answer him. She didn't think there was anything she could say except that she heartily disagreed. He had lost control of everything and nearly cost those poor people their lives. He shouldn't speak for his teammates.

'No good would come of sharing that opinion,' she thought with a smirk.

But a few paces behind her, Katsuro wasn't giving up. If she wouldn't answer his questions, then maybe he could anger her enough to talk. She should be happy; he didn't have to speak to her at all. He ground his foot down onto the next rock.

"Your freedom was never an option," he called up to her testily.

Sakura sighed. He wasn't going to let this go. She dug her elbows into an unusually large moss-covered rock and attempted to pull herself up onto it. But the moss was slippery under her boots, and she couldn't get a solid footing.

"I wasn't interested in my freedom," she said finally. "I was interested in their safety." She had slipped back down, but wasn't giving up. She leaned on her elbows and tried again.

Still a few boulders behind her, Katsuro shook his head, not bothering to look up.

"You value you're life so little that you trade it for people you don't even know? People who were foolish enough to come into these woods unprotected?" he said.

She didn't answer him.

"You are a ninja aren't you?" he said angrily. He knew she was. No civilian would dream of doing what she did, nor would any of the shinobis he knew. He kicked a cluster of leaves off the top of the boulder.

"Well, what a waste," he said. "Everything you've trained for, at your little academy, all thrown away."

Sakura had slipped again, and was crouching down to inspect the rock for a toehold.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," she said, her voice muffled by her hair.

"What?" he snapped, looking up to where she was bent over. He frowned. He thought she was farther ahead.

"I said, I wouldn't expect you to understand," she repeated louder, straightening and kicking away some of the moss with her boot.

He jumped atop the rock behind her, thinking irritably that he knew what was she was going to say next. Arrogant Konoha nin that she was, she would certainly tell him of her noble cause, her proud village—

"They were children, a family. They didn't deserve such horror in their lives because of me," she said. She dug her toe into the slot and got ready to try again.

"Because of you?" he scoffed, hands on his hips. He was waiting for it, some high-flown sentiment, some ridiculous ninja creed. In his anger, it didn't even occur to him that their progress had completely halted.

"Yes. Because none of this would have happened if you weren't transporting me," she said. She dug her elbows in to the moss, this time using her sore fingers to try to help her hold on, stabilize her as she scrambled up.

"Ahhhhh, so you're self-sacrifice eases your guilt," he said tartly.

"No, I'm—" she began an angry retort, but her boot slipped yet again. The sudden weight on her hurt arms and fingers gave her a jolt, and she released her grip involuntarily on the moss to crash back down onto one leg.

She blew out a low breath. Not nearly as hurt as she was from her previous falls, Sakura was still tired of the unsteady terrain.

"I'm sick of falling," she muttered as she slowly rose back up to standing.

Katsuro watched her flip pink hair out of her face for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. Her village affiliation stoked his anger, but it was unfair to pin it all on this girl, and he knew it. As a kunoichi, she must be exceptional. Most grown men would have given up by now. Seeing her pull herself together, turn and tackle the rock again, lifted him out of his bad mood. He decided to try again as well.

Moving quickly, he leaned down beside her and clasped his hands, giving her a foothold so she could hoist herself up.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

The climbed over the next few rocks in silence, until Katsuro spoke up suddenly.

"You're tough," he said, surprising her a little with his directness.

"I'm a ninja," she replied humorlessly, stretching to make it over a particularly large slab. It was true enough, she thought. She was supposed to be tough.

He snorted. "Yeah... Well if you pull another stunt like the one you did back there, you'll find yourself suspended from a tree each night, miss ninja," he said.

Momentarily confused, Sakura retorted, "What stunt? Do you mean protecting that family?"

She stopped to face her captor, looking hard at the wrapped up face she hated.

"Yes," he said, pointing to the rock ahead of them. "Don't stop."

"That's what I'm trained to do," she said, grasping a textbook answer. Behind her, Katsuro just rolled his eyes. But he could tell she had more to say, so he did his best to keep his mouth shut. They continued climbing over some smaller boulders.

"The big man," she continued, "you know, the one that's got it out for you," she emphasized, "you couldn't have stopped him in time. He was going to kill the father, I'm sure of it."

She cleared her throat, trying to shake the feeling that she'd screwed up again. No, she told herself. She'd fixed it. They were all ok now.

"I decided I'd do anything to keep that from happening," she finished quietly.

Katsuro narrowed his eyes. "You mean, once you got to the top of the hill and saw there was no way to escape?" he said.

Sakura could see where he was going with this, pointing out that saving the family was an afterthought. That she had been more concerned about herself instead of them.

"No," she said, trying not to snap. "I saw the children in the cart, they were terrified. I decided then that if I couldn't figure a way out for them, that I'd bargain with you."

"And what made you think we'd go along with you?" he asked.

"I knew _you_ didn't want them to get hurt either," she said. "You saw they were a family before anyone else did, and even tried to stop the the rest of men from attacking."

He blinked, remembering the cold fear that he would watch the father be slaughtered before his eyes. In his anger at her, he been able to ignore how close he'd come to losing all control. Then those fools would really have triumphed over him, he thought angrily.

"For whatever purpose, you need me," she said with a sigh. "So, I traded my life for theirs." She shrugged, adding softly, "it wasn't a hard choice to make."

But something had changed. He could hear it in her voice. Her determination had slipped a little.

"If I'm going to die out here anyway," she said, pausing to cast wayward glance down the unforgiving mountainside, "I may as well make it worth something."

The kunoichi turned back to look at him. She knew she was still bargaining. He held her future in his hands, and she was hoping that her honesty would persuade him to shed a little light on what her fate was to be. She studied his face, but his dark eyes were inscrutable.

"Come on, let's go," he said quietly. "We're losing light."

The greying forest was silent around the pair. Dark blue seeped over the sky, and the first bright stars could be seen through the chinks in the leafy canopy. Moving together, Katsuro stopped occasionally to give her a foothold, though she never asked.

He was silent for a long time, considering the pointlessness of her actions. It seemed such a waste of skills to defend those who should never have been that far out in the forest alone in the first place. And here she was ready to fight for them, die for them. Foolish, he thought.

But there was something in the way she talked about him that he couldn't quite dismiss. She believed he would accept her offer to save the family — part of her plan was relying on him. An implied trust. It was an unsettling feeling. Trust wasn't something he had much use for.

Though she hadn't been out to thwart him, like the rest of the men in his group, she was definitely turning out to be a lot of trouble.

Mired in these thoughts, he reflexively leaned down to hoist her foot up to another rock. He pushed hard, vaulting her up.

But neither could see the sharply-angled top, the surface devoid of moss or the ground that fell away sharply on the other side. There was no room for error here. And the kunoichi would know none of this until it was nearly too late.

As soon as she landed on the boulder she started sliding off, hastened by the layer of grit and dust on top

"Katsuro," she called out desperately, reaching back with her bound hands. Snapped out of his thoughts, he scrambled to the edge of the block to catch her by the arm, fleetingly surprised that she even knew his name. The girl was inches from a perilously steep drop off the other side.

"I've got to untie you," he said, laughing nervously, one hand gripping the edge, one hand clutching her elbow. He swung her toward the safer side of the rock, then slid down behind her.

"Yeah," was all she get out, her mouth dry from panic.

He unwound her bindings and she resumed climbing in front of him, her freedom clouded by his warning that if she fell even he couldn't save her.

"Aren't you worried I'll try to escape," the kunoichi said as a half-hearted challenge, thinking she couldn't run two steps before she fell down the mountain.

Katsuro chuckled. "There's no where to run to," he said, adding quietly, "but we're getting closer."

Sakura squinted at the dark blue ridge line, the same ridge that they'd been slowly hiking along for the better part of the afternoon, but she couldn't discern anything that would mark the end of their journey.

Evening painted the steep woodland in blues and blacks. Enough starlight filtered down through the canopy to let them make out shapes, but not much else. Under her fingers, the mossy carpet no longer softened the edges of the boulders. Sakura could tell now that these were in fact huge blocks, carved for some ancient building. They were dusty and precarious, and she slipped quite a few times. Her warden, though he knew the way, was not faring much better.

"Where are we going?" she threw back at him after one exasperating scramble up a steep chunk of stone.

"Up there," he nodded his head at some faint glowing orange orbs seemingly floating in the dark blue expanse above them. Sakura would have thought they were more stars, the lights were so far above what she remembered to be the horizon.

"What?" she cried, "How are we—"

"It gets easier. Just keep going," he said tiredly, ready to be done with this ordeal.

Katsuro moved closer to her, trying to stick to the same rocks she was climbing over in case she fell. She resented it at first but was forced discard those feelings in order to concentrate on the steep inclines and the wobbling slabs, some of which threatened to break free at any moment under the weight of the trespassers.

What was treacherous by day had become terrifying in the blotted darkness of night.

He reached for her to keep her steady, and to her chagrin she found herself reaching for him just as much. She felt a push at her lower back, then a hand on her waist guiding her toward a steadier boulder. Once her feet were safely planted, she turned and reached out for the arm that she knew was close behind her, guiding him to the same destination before moving forward again.

The initial jolt Sakura had experienced at his touch, her mind freezing in fear and her body stiffening, gradually diminished as she leaned more and more on the rogue nin, willing to do anything to prevent herself from tumbling down the mountain. She tried to concentrate more on anticipating his next position on the shifting rocks, moving in unison, and less on the momentary skittishness she felt each time he touched her.

The cool night air at the high elevation cut through her, but to Sakura's surprise, Katsuro was quite warm. She could nearly feel his body heat before her hand grasped his shirt, wrapped around his arm, slid into his hand. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her in the dark, but the warmth he gave off made her feel a little less alone.

Katsuro relished the breeze, it felt so good on across his skin. It occurred to him that under the veil of darkness he could remove those wretched face coverings and continue on in a fraction more comfort. He hooked the bands around his cheek and pulled them to hang loosely at his neck. The air on his face was immediately refreshing. He hated that the most about dealing with outsiders, having to keep their own appearances hidden.

In front of him, Sakura chafed her arms for a little extra warmth.

"Are you ok? Do you need the cloak?" he asked.

Sakura whipped her head back at him suddenly, trying to find his face in the dark.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, peering hard into the space where she thought his face might be. "Did you just take your, um, face thing off?"

Katsuro chuckled, "Yeah. Why? Do I sound different?"

"No, not really," Sakura answered thoughtfully. "Just a little more clear."

"Hmm," he answered tiredly because he could think of nothing else to say, and continued moving.

They worked so long together that she forgot completely about her journey, her destination and the fact that her lifeline in the darkness was also her captor. She simply moved her limbs in coordination with him to survive the trek. If his silence was any indication then he felt the same.

Through this tentative truce they worked their way up the mountain, never too far out of the other one's reach.

Finally, daylight a distant memory, Katsuro straddled a particularly large block then reached back to pull Sakura up to the top.

"Ready?" he asked, then pushed her down the exposed flat side.

The kunoichi landed distrustingly on flat gravel, and stood still for a moment to adjust her eyes to this new, apparently stable ground. Katsuro slid down directly behind her and bumped her forward a bit as he stood. He put both hands on her shoulders and pointed her bodily in the direction of a gray ribbon of dirt that ran down between the large boulders.

"That way," he said from over her shoulder.

Sakura took a few tentative steps forward, eyes trying to make out just where she was stepping in the murky darkness. The kunoichi looked down at her feet, crunching the dusty gravel, and followed the path ahead until the end of her visibility. The 'gray ribbon' they were standing on was a narrow footpath. It wound around some of the crumbling stones and up toward a dark hulking structure.

A nudge from Katsuro, and they began slowly moving up the walkway.

Loose blocks thinned out, and what remained were coalescing to form what Sakura assumed was the building all this wreckage belonged to. The tiny path now hugged a wall on one side, and the ground fell away on the other.

Sakura let her palm glide over the wall as she walked, hoping to find something to keep her from toppling into the dark blue void on the other side. Rocks crumbled away from the edge of the path as she passed, giving her pause to wonder how far down they would go before they stopped. A breeze danced up the mountainside and lifted the fringes of her hair.

"Watch your step," Katsuro's voice chuckled from close behind her.

"Yeah," was all she could find for a response, tearing her eyes away from the abyss to find the path again.

The slow, circuitous route finally brought them around the building, the path emptying out into a large, half-circle terrace.

Sakura walked carefully across the old flat stones for a better look at her surroundings. A strong breeze gusted through, but it never completely died down. She guessed they were probably at the ridge top.

She made it, she thought, breathing in the cool air and ignoring the chill. Only then did she wonder where she was.

The building was extraordinarily high, and she guessed it was an ancient temple. Sakura swept her gaze over the dusty terrace. It was obviously built for viewing, and the she could tell it must have been magnificent in it's ancient days, before the trees had grown up and concealed it from the world. Only dappled light from the star-bright sky filtered through the treetops, which looked so close you could touch them.

Her warden entered the patio behind her, but turned toward the doorway opposite the old viewing ledge. Standing at the light-flooded entrance, he called back to her tiredly, "Come on, let's get something to eat."

Sakura turned at his voice and caught his silhouette, black against the golden doorway. He was just adjusting the last of his face coverings over his nose and mouth.

She blew out a frustrated breath, summoning enough energy to silently curse her bad timing. She stepped forward to follow him through the door.

As he entered, voices filtered out of the building, heralding his late arrival.

But Sakura was gripped by a sudden panic. Up until now, she had only focused on surviving, not what may be in store for her at the end. At the edge of the pool of light, Sakura could go no further.

The fear that had been displaced by the exhausting trek returned in full force and threatened to consume her. Fear of Itachi, fear of failing her team, fear of never going home... Irrational thoughts that made her want to turn and run. But there was no where to go from here, she thought in despair. This is a prison without walls.

Just inside the doorway, Katsuro turned back and looked for her. He nodded for her to come in, but she stood unmoving.

He tipped his head. Was something wrong? His tired brown eyes studied her face. Even in the dim light he could see the tenseness in her expression, her own eyes over-wide with fear. It tugged at him. He nodded again, softly beckoning her with his hand.

Sakura watched him and tried to collect her thoughts. She had to keep going, she told herself. She knew there was no other choice. She took a breath and followed Katsuro into the main hall.

What was once a grand room now provided the barest of shelters for this group of rogues. A sunken fire pit in the center of the room cast a flickering orange glow over everything.

Immense, crumbling columns ringed the long rectangular room. Sakura could make out a wide walkway, mostly hidden in the darkness behind the row of columns, as well as a few square holes in the walls where windows might have opened onto the once-spectacular view. But those had long since fallen out.

She squinted for a closer look at what she thought was a large black wall on the opposite side of the room, surprised to find that it was, in reality, the world outside. The whole wall had fallen away, and the floor jutted out from underneath the roof, exposed to all the elements.

But what arrested her attention were the group of men in front of her, lazing at the broad, stone-edged fire circle inside the columns. They all looked to the latecomers carelessly, but Sakura could barely conceal her astonishment.

Each face was revealed, save for the man she walked in with.

These men were all older than she was by at least a few years and were all rough looking — more like thugs than ninjas, she realized. It was the same team they'd climbed up the mountain with. They looked just as tired and dirty as she felt.

Sakura's fears abated somewhat as she determined they were the only ones in this ancient compound.

The conversation around the fire died out as the girl came into view. The biggest man, Raiden, with a head full of choppy brown hair, simply watched them pass. But his deep-set eyes had a mean glint in the orange half-light. Beside him, the hatchet-faced Fumio leaned close to whisper something, his long, bony fingers concealing his mouth momentarily, before sitting back to continue his scrutiny of the pair.

She narrowed her eyes, mentally noting their features. Those two were not to be trusted, she thought.

The rest of them were the same, brown hair, forgettable faces. Nothing bespoke village ties or a known clan lineage. Some were interested in their arrival, some were rolling over to go back to sleep. But they all seemed to unite when it came to heckling her warden.

"You sure took your time," Raiden said, all smiles. A few men laughed around him, and the chatter seemed to pick back up. But Katsuro ignored him.

He paced to the center of a row of columns and stopped. Standing still and looking out at the group, hands on his hips, he shook his head in obvious irritation. Finally, heaving a deep sigh as if being forced to some decision, he turned and pitched his backpack against the wall.

What happened next Sakura was unprepared for: In one motion the man fingered the back of his of the wrappings and pulled it directly off his head — wrappings, head covering and all — as if he were ripping off a hated shirt. He flung the tangled mess to the ground near the pack. Katsuro turned to give the kunoichi a command, but it died on his lips.

Her eyes wide and her expression akin to horror, Sakura stopped in her tracks as she took in his appearance.

Deep brown eyes set off his smooth pale face. Freckles lightly dusted his nose and cheeks above slightly chapped lips. All this was capped with a mop of unruly chestnut hair.

His looks were fair and normal, but what shook her to her core was that he appeared to be all of 15 years old. She was fully expecting another dark-haired adult but not prepared for her captor to be someone... someone like her.

"You're— You're a— _a kid!"_

A roar of laughter erupted from the men. Katsuro frowned deeply and turned bodily away from her, causing more laughter to ripple around the room.

Sakura heard none of it. The sensation of being bested by someone her own age like being dipped in cold water. She should have fought harder, she admonished herself.

"You'll sleep here tonight," he called back to her, pointing to where the pack landed behind the columns. "Where is the food?" he asked the group irritably.

"Remember, you said to grab what we wanted from the cart," Raiden said snidely, "Oh yeah, you were busy with the her." Snickers erupted around the man, who was making a big show of inspecting his fingernails.

Their intention was clear: No food was the punishment for her little ruckus at the cart.

"It's not for me, it's for her," he yelled at them, but his angry tone only elicited another round of laughter.

Finally someone took pity on him and threw an orange over. He caught it and held it out for Sakura, but she simply shook her head once, refusing it.

"Where am I supposed to sleep? Is there somewhere for me... I mean, I don't have anything to..." Her voice wavered, then guttered out completely.

What was she thinking or even asking for? He obviously meant for her to sleep on the floor, she was their hostage, right? She was not thinking properly. She rubbed her fist wearily against her temple.

The weight of her ordeal was pulling her under. The survival skills that helped her move through the day where lost to her now. There were no negotiations here: She wasn't a hostage, she amended. She was their prisoner.

And she was exhausted. The will to fight had left her completely. She couldn't find the words to ask all the questions she wanted answered…. Where would she sleep? How long would she be here? Would she live through this?

Drawing a ragged breath, hand clutching an elbow, tears burning her eyes, Sakura just stood there, hopeless, and awaited her orders from this _boy_ in front of her.

Katsuro tilted his head and considered her question. Then, eyebrows hitching up and expression going slack, his mouth finally worked a little "Oh" at the realization that she did not have anything with her: He had forgotten to take her into account when he packed.

"Oh yeah," was all he could mutter, but the rest of the group figured it out as well, drawing another peal of laughter from the men.

"Shutup!" he yelled over his shoulder at them.

"You can have my blanket," he grumbled quietly to her.

She could hear the men chortling around the campfire, snippets of insults floated over. One in particular came from Raide, saying he thought it was "funny, the runt has to sleep on the floor. Not used to that now is he?!" That bit of humor got a lot of laughs.

Clearly irritated, Katsuro stepped around her, set the orange down and unfurled his blanket for her over the dusty ground, aiming for the bit with the least rocks. Happy to be finished with his task and ready to find his own spot in the compound without teammates or kunoichis, he leaned over, snatched up the orange, turned on his heel and pushed it roughly into the girl's free hand.

The cry she let out completely surprised him, and it wasn't until the orange had already slipped through her hand and bounced halfway to the wall that he remembered her injury from the bindings, the one that he had inflicted. He felt like he was going to be punished for everything tonight.

"I can't eat it," she said, holding back tears.

"Oh... yeah," he said, not sure why until he realized she probably couldn't peel it. He set to work removing the skin when she stopped him.

"No, my stomach hurts, I don't think I can eat," she dissembled. She was unraveling from the ordeal, and she wanted to lie down and weep. "I think I'll just rest," Sakura added, holding a sob back until the end.

"Ok," he said quietly, and left her alone in the shadows behind the columns

But Katsuro knew too well that she would soon be crying herself to sleep.

He sat down at the base of one of the nearby columns, now burnished deep red in the dying firelight. A few of the men glanced up, but the young shinobi was no longer a source of interest. Warmth and drowsiness seemed to be tugging at them all.

Pulling his knees up and quietly peeling the orange, Katsuro took his time to break it into segments without damaging it. He ate a few pieces, chewing slowly, making it last. He tipped his head back against the column and watched the fire dwindle to a warm glow through half-closed eyes, listening to the soft noises around him. Once her crying subsided and her breathing modulated, then he could find rest too.

Hours later, Sakura stirred in the darkness, awakening suddenly in fear. But she stilled her movements as the memory of the previous day seeped in. She blinked, willing her bleary eyes to focus on the cracked wall in front of her, then turned quietly under the blanket to survey the dimly lit room. A bright fragrance floated up through the shifting air. There on the ground beside her head were a dozen or so orange segments cupped in a few of the larger peels. A few feet beyond that lay the sleeping form of the boy, his back to her.

She slipped a hand out and retrieved a segment, ducking back under the edge of the blanket to savor the fruit as quietly as possible. It's bright spark in the darkness, combined with desperately needed sleep, made her feel much better than she thought she could feel. She finished the rest of the orange pieces and considered her situation, what she'd endured already, what may lie ahead.

She wouldn't give up yet, she decided. She could get through this.

Sighing softly, Sakura readjusted the blanket around her and willed herself back to sleep.

Nearby, the breathing which had halted in its rhythmic pattern at the the rustling of the blanket, slowly resumed its pace, keeping time with the kunoichi's now steadying breaths.


	6. Out of the Darkness

Grey light seeped across the room. Persistent rustling hung in the air. A tiny pebble dug relentlessly into her stiff shoulder. In the dim light of morning, things were conspiring against Sakura.

The rogues, who had plenty of time to rest the day before, were awake, shuffling and talking, inconsiderate of everyone. The din was slowly rising with the sun.

Sakura opened her eyes a fraction and was glad to see no one had taken notice of them yet. She quietly slid the blanket up to her face and peered out. Katsuro — 'the boy,' she thought petulantly — was turned on his side facing her, back to the room. He was sleeping.

'Figures,' she thought.

Dust clung to the careless licks of brown hair, and his face was smooth from sleep, only his eyelashes fluttering occasionally. He could have been any kid in her village, she thought with growing irritation.

She blew out a angry breath. It had everything to do with his jettisoned face covering and the surprise it concealed: his age. If there had been any hint of trust in the last throes of their trek, it was gone now. As if hiding his age was a greater injury than abducting her in the first place, she thought with chagrin.

'Well, I've changed my mind,' she decided. 'I liked him better all wrapped up.'

One of the men looked over, Sakura snapped her eyes shut. And just as she did, Katsuro cracked his open.

He had been listening to her stir, aware that her breathing had changed, and a few times peeked at her to make sure no one in the room had noticed them yet. Sleep was out of the picture now, but at least they could rest a little longer. And it gave him time to prepare for the day.

He knew he wanted to stay away from the other men as much as possible. There was always trouble where they were involved.

Running through his options of what he could do, where he could go with his charge, Katsuro thought he saw the girl move and glanced at her face.

She had snapped her eyes shut and was obviously feigning sleep. He continued to watch her from under hooded eyes. After a moment she felt comfortable enough to peek out again. He let the corners of his mouth tug into a smile, which was rewarded with a little huff. Smirking at her response, he slowly opened his eyes.

"Thanks," she said quietly, slanting a glance at the orange.

He gave a short nod and was about to speak, but the words died on his lips.

"...No, make him earn it..." carried over from the cluster of men at the fire circle. It punctuated a string of grumbled, indiscernible comments.

Katsuro's eyes were locked on the kunoichi's, but they darkened with anger. She had stilled herself at the sound too and watched his face for any sign of trouble. When he said nothing, she flicked her gaze out to the room. Her eyes widened minutely. Katsuro could tell from her expression that they were looking over at them.

"Yeah, you heard me," Raiden called to them, addressing Katsuro's back. "Go get us some water and we'll let you have some food. Otherwise it's going to be really hard for you — and _her_ —" he ground out, "to make it up here. Wouldn't want Itachi to think you've failed now, would we?" He let the last statement hang in the air, but the other men felt bold enough to make their contributions now.

Sakura quickly fixed her eyes back on Katsuro, determined not to give them an audience. She tried her hardest not to flinch as the men continued their tirade.

"Our stomachs or your mission," came a falsetto taunt from Fumio.

"We shouldn't give 'em anything at all," another voice grunted.

"Well?" Raiden said loudly, ending all other discussion. "Do you want to eat or not?" He paused, then rejoined with his own marching orders. "Get up, boy. You've got work to do."

Across from her, Katsuro lay deathly still. His eyes narrowed and he balled his hand into a fist in the dirt. Sakura could tell it was taking a monumental effort to keep his hot temper under control.

She had been expecting them to come to blows for some time now, and she wondered if this was it. He didn't seem like the type to take orders, and the big one didn't look like he'd let this go.

But whatever his thoughts were about inflicting bodily harm on the other men, Katsuro surprised her when he opened his hand, spread his fingers out over the ground and sighed deeply.

"You'll need to eat," he said with a frown.

Sakura looked away, knowing she was the cause of this new little tension between them.

As if he wouldn't be eating if she weren't here, she thought. As if he wouldn't be in this situation if she hadn't interfered with their ambush. She frowned but said nothing. It was her fault, again.

He pushed himself up, the movement kicking little dust clouds into the air between them. Sakura rolled on her back under the blanket and looked up at him, waiting. She didn't know what was expected of her in this equation.

"Come on, we're gonna be here for a while," he said in a monotone, patting the dust from his dark fatigues. "I'll show you around, then you can help carry the water back up."

Katsuro turned and briskly crossed the floor to a small doorway in the opposite corner of the room.

'No bindings then,' she thought. 'This really is a prison without walls.'

But the knowledge they were staying made her hopeful. She was safe for the time being from whatever fate awaited her with Itachi. And the more time she had, the better her chances of finding a way out of this mess.

He turned back, waiting for her, impatient to get on with his task.

Hurriedly shoving the blanket over to his pack, Sakura followed him across the walkway.

Outside, the fallen away wall revealed nothing more than the outlines of trees through the clinging mist. Inside, the room stretched away from her into murky darkness. It was much larger than she remembered from the previous night. Though the sun was up, a fire was still needed to illuminate the center of the room, and even then the light did not make into all the corners.

The men hovering near the fire ignored their passing, and Sakura did not look to see how many were lingering in the dim light.

Passing through the narrow doorway, Sakura quickly found herself descending a winding stairwell, down over crumbling steps, past window holes and landings with other narrow doorways. Some still had rustic wooden doors, others had lost theirs long ago.

The ones without doors gave her a little glimpse into the lower levels of the temple. From what she could see they were empty rooms as well. But she didn't have time to linger — her warden was moving swiftly down the steps.

Sakura had counted several doors when one caught her attention. It was rustic and handmade, but it retained some of its bright red paint, and was encrusted with much finer hardware.

The difference brought her to a stop, while Katsuro's footsteps pounded away down the stairs.

Ornate metal hinges created a filigree pattern against the worn timbers. And what at first glance looked like a lock was in reality an intricately patterned pin wedged into an equally detailed metal fastener. It was rusty, but she knew she could open it.

Somewhere outside the building a bird was chirping. The leaves made a thin rustling sound. But around her it was deliciously silent. She was alone.

'Just a quick peek,' she thought.

Curling her hair behind her ears, she wiggled the rusty metal free of its hold and let the heavy door swing open. Sakura peered into the thick darkness.

There was something in there…. Something amazing….

Katsuro had continued on, but when he didn't hear her behind him anymore he backtracked to find her.

"Hey," Katsuro called from down the steps. Sakura looked down the curved wall to see him waiting for her, caught in the glow of some unseen window. She could clearly make out his frown. She ignored it.

"What room is this," she said turning back to the doorway. He shrugged.

"There are paintings in here. Really remarkable paintings," she said slowly, sticking her head inside the doorway, squinting into the low light. "Do you think it's safe to go in," she called over her shoulder.

He trudged back up the steps, curiosity piqued enough to start him moving. "I guess…. I don't know," he said, his voice still dull.

But she was already moving across the dusty room by the time he returned to the landing.

The air was thick and stagnant, and the only light came from a few shuttered window holes. Katsuro could see now what had caught her eye from the doorway. Slants of light fell across the other panel-covered walls. Everywhere there were faces and scenes, bright patches of clothes, edges of roofs, glimpses of landscapes, flashes of villages and the people who lived in them.

She moved quickly down the long wall flinging the shutters back one at a time. When she was finished she turned to smile at her discovery.

It was like the sun had risen on another world. Painted screens wrapped around the room and were covered from top to bottom with glorious illustrations of villages and landscapes, battles and clan gatherings, men training and women visiting. There was a single path wandering through it all, upon which traveled a man who looked like none of them.

Still frozen in the doorway, Katsuro's mouth fell open. He moved closer to her, trying to take it all in, but he simply couldn't. He didn't know where to look first.

All around them dust billowed up, little flecks sparkling in the large beams of light. It gave the paintings and the whole room a magical air. It was like she had just opened a treasure box.

"Look," she said, identifying the sequence of events playing out on the panels. She pointed at a painted battle scene from the days before the villages. "I didn't know much about the groups represented here," she peered closer at a painted symbols on their helmets, then shook her head. "I've never seen these before. But I think I understand the story this tells."

Sakura remembered it from her academy days. This was a folk tale about an old traveling monk who first brought chakra control to the realm of humans. She saw the picture etched into the page of her textbook as clearly as if it were in front of her. The stooped little old man who leaned dangerously on his gnarled staff and smiled up at generations of students with a toothless, half-crazed grin. He didn't look like he could carry the book he was drawn into, let alone the legacy of chakra to all the nations. He was just another cartoonish character in a story.

But in the painting before her, the old monk had been recast as a powerful sage. The years had been peeled away, revealing a upstanding, strong younger man who was at the start of his journey throughout the world. His winding path took him through every corner of the painted panels, through every manner of earthly environment. It ran like a thin golden ribbon, disappearing into the stylized clouds that separated the areas, then reappearing on the other side. And with each new panel, the sage grew a little older, his robes more stately, his walking staff more decorated.

Sakura's eyes darted back over the panels. It was easy to guess that the largest of the modern nations were represented in the painted environments — forests and deserts, snowy mountains and grassy plains. This was a tale interweaving myth with the real land in which they lived.

She went panel by panel, moving across the canvas, telling the tale with her hands. Brown eyes wide, Katsuro was rapt. He listened closely and watched the action being played out on the walls in front of him.

"Here, these would have been the best warriors of the day," she said motioning to a group of engaged in fierce battle. She moved to the next screen, sweeping her arm high, "...and here, the sage travelled to another land to meet the leaders of the local clans. See, you can tell by their head pieces," she said, stopping to point at the men's unusually-shaped hats. She continued on, talking about the men and women painted in exquisite detail, the changing of seasons, the sage's journey.

Katsuro stayed right beside her listening to it all, wondering about the colorful battles, the long journey and where strangely dressed man would wind up.

Sakura stepped back and looked closer at the sage, following just him as he progressed through the panels so far. He was changing from a swift-moving younger man to a distinguished middle-aged man. His robes were becoming more sumptuous, more flowing. And with each stop, he seemed to be accumulating more items. He top of his staff was cluttered with several rings, and streamers of colorful silk rippled off the top. Each color corresponded to one of the clans he'd visited.

"Ah," Sakura nodded to herself, having figured out at least some part of the story. "Yes, I see."

Katsuro looked from her to the painting and back again, wondering what, in fact, she saw.

"So he is getting more powerful. Look," she pointed to the touch of gray at his temples, the length of the ponytail that draped over the broad shoulder decorations. In the painted panel in front of them, the sage sat, arms, folded behind a table. She pointed several screens back. "He used to move freely through the landscape at the beginning of his travels. He was younger. He wore more simple clothes and interacted with everyone."

She nodded to a scene of him standing at the edge of a river, speaking to the fishermen about what they'd caught. "He speaks as comfortably to farmers as he does to clan leaders." In a turn of the path, the younger sage was stepping up into a family house where a meal was laid out for him. He was being welcomed in, and was smiling in return, and other people were arriving to join them.

Sakura pointed ahead a few panels. "Yet in this one, he's only with other well-dressed men. It's a bigger feast. And the farmers and commoners are waiting outside."

Katsuro nodded. Now he saw it too.

"But here," she returned to the panel directly in front of them. The sage looked strangely distant in the midst of the banquet, even though he was clearly the guest of honor. He was seated in the middle, but was unmoved by the powerful men and the sumptuous feast around him. "Look at his clothes now. It's more like he's dressed for battle than for a celebration."

"Who's he going to battle with?"

Sakura shrugged. "Dunno."

"Keep going," he said, eyes still devouring the screen they stood in front of. His tone was so earnest she didn't have the heart to tell him that she'd already skipped ahead to the ending. And he probably wouldn't like it.

Katsuro hadn't yet noticed, as caught up as he was in the fascinating story, that around the next wall the last panels were gone, taken in antiquity. Even the spaces where they used to hang on the old wall were as dark as their surroundings.

For them, the saga was robbed of its conclusion.

'And no one likes a story without an ending,' she thought. 'Not even him.'

She continued on, talking and moving with winding path. Her hunch had been right. The sage had amassed power and moved now through the lands with some single far-off goal in mind. He didn't stop to visit anyone, neither commoners nor clansmen. And eventually they stopped noticing him in the landscape. Their lives went on around him.

The focus of the next few screens shifted to the raucous, colorful, even poignant displays of civilian life. There were little dramas and comedies everywhere, filling the screens. Weddings and births. Squabbles and celebrations. Betrayals and deaths. Even the daily lives of their animals were included. A mouse, with a little brushstroke of a grin, escaped a fat cat, while a goat escaped its fencing with a spry kick at the chasing farmer's wife.

The path of the sage nearly disappeared here. But he would pop up from time to time. Sometimes giving demonstrations, sometimes accepting a meal from a temple. But always moving forward. His outfit never changed, nor did his hair or his staff. Life around him was changing, but he wasn't. He was only focused on his goal.

Sakura continued, studying the paintings, narrating as best as she could, explaining when Katsuro had questions about a few unusual things.

"Are his hands on fire?" he asked; "I think he's demonstrating how chakra works," she said.

"What's he carrying," he asked; "That's a prayer staff. Monks have them," she said.

"What's wrong with his eyes," he asked; "Um...I don't really know," she said.

The end of those panels of village life came with the corner of the wall. Only two more painted screens remained.

Here the path of the sage reappeared, winding through the first panel, an ominously dark forest of dimly lit scenes divided by dark clouds. It was hard to see in the low light, but they could just make out fantastical creatures with grotesque faces popping out from behind trees and dark buildings. Obviously trying to scare him. But he was too determined to be frightened away.

Sakura had no idea what was going on here. "Maybe he's being tested?"

They moved to the last panel, but it needed no narration. This was his goal, and this screen was his moment of glory.

A yellow moon shined down from the top, blasting away the border of clouds at either side. The heroic sage had his staff raised, streamers billowing out around him, and his eyes were riveted to an enormous beast — a fanciful blend of dragon and demon — snarling at his feet. Both were poised to attack amid the long streams of moonlight.

But just at the decisive moment, the panel ended.

Katsuro frowned but said nothing. The empty wall stretched away from them, lonely and vast without the conclusion of its grand story. Sakura sighed again.

A thought perked him up. "Do you know what happened?" he asked quickly.

"Oh no," she said. "I think part of it was about how chakra was created, and everyone knows that old story, but the rest I've never heard of." She shrugged. "Maybe it was some elaborate ghost story for the monks who lived here," she said with a grin. "You know, to scare them from leaving or something—"

Catching Katsuro's serious look, she remembered her own situation and turned to peruse some of the finer details again.

"How do you know all of this," he said, following her back down the line of panels.

"I learned it from the shinobi academy, like everyone else. Although I suppose I studied a bit harder," she finished quietly. Sakura hit upon another idea. "Didn't you go to an academy…somewhere?" she asked with feigned innocence.

He didn't answer, so she turned to gauge his reaction. Maybe he didn't hear the question, she thought.

But he was regarding her, hands on his hips, head cocked to the side, an unmistakeable smirk plastered on his face. He'd seen through her little guise handily.

An unrepentant smile ghosted across her lips.

She had to admit that without the concealments, he was much easier to read and much less intimidating. And she was happy to see he wasn't as irritated with her guesswork as she thought he might be.

"Let's go get the water," he said. She silently acquiesced and followed him to the stairs, leaving the glittering, light filled room behind.

Both were silent after that, winding down past more and more floors.

Katsuro's thoughts were consumed with the old tale, wondering what action played out on those final panels.

Sakura's mind was more directly concerned. The boy in front of her was a puzzle. What was he doing here, with these awful men, and apparently in charge. She remembered the morning's altercation and rethought it: Maybe he wasn't in charge. The kunoichi bit her lip and shook her head. She just couldn't tell. And why the disguises, for all of them? The gaps in his story were large enough to fall through.

Katsuro took the last steps two at a time, disappearing from Sakura's sight around the final curve.

She bounded down behind him. The bottom steps emptied out in front of her onto a large stone floor. But peering out through the narrow doorway, Sakura was unprepared for the sight that waited there. If the room on the upper floor had been all darkness and concealment, then this was its lofty, light-filled opposite.

The roof vaulted above them, going up at least two floors, and was backed by mountainside on the back wall. Along the opposite wall, tall arches soared over a moss-covered ledge. Where there had been windows in other parts of the building, it looked as if this had always been open to the outside world. Long vines dangled down into the arches, the light illuminating their leaves, and birds flew in and out, wary of the interlopers. In the center of the room, where Katsuro stood smiling, there was a large stone well. He rested his hand on its heavy wood lid and waited for her.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said.

"Yes," she said softly, eyes wide with astonishment as she crossed the floor.

He smiled again, watching her take it all in. It was one of his favorite places, and it made the journey up there worth it.

A large dragonfly suddenly alighted on a patch of moss on the window ledge. The breeze ruffled the vines at the top of the arch, parting them for a moment, and a stream of sunlight shot down, illuminating the dragonfly's wings. They glittered in a shattered rainbow of colors. The creature tipped its head, sizing up the intruders to its world.

Katsuro realized they were at just the right place to see the dazzling effect on its crystalline wings—

"Oh wow! Look—," he said, but the sound of his voice made it lift off again. The dragonfly buzzed up, soared over them a few times, then disappeared.

Feeling suddenly stupid for pointing out a bug, especially after her discovery of the paintings, Katsuro quickly shuttered his open expression. But when he glanced over, he was surprised to discover the girl was awestruck as well. He watched her green eyes trace the dragonfly's path around the room then out the window.

It was almost as if she were just as amazed as he was that they were there at the precise right moment to catch the wings in the sunlight—

Or…maybe she just liked dragonflies, too.

He wasn't sure what to think. He cleared his throat. "I'll just, uh…go open the up well."

She nodded as if she were only half listening, then walked to the arched window and looked over the edge. He set to unfastening the lid from the old well.

They were at the base of the temple, and just beyond the ledge, tons of leaf-littered stones jumbled down the steep slope. Ancient grey tree trunks dotted the landscape. Their canopies floated high above them now. This was some of what they had scaled in darkness the night before. Looking at the abrupt drop in the boulders, mist encroaching around the obvious cliff face the temple was built into, Sakura was glad she couldn't see any of that as they were climbing. It made her stomach clench just thinking about it.

Katsuro dropped a wooden bucket down into the well, and slowly pulled up the sloshing vessel. Pattering sounds echoed around the room. He balanced it on the edge and inspected the water, dipping his cupped hand in for a taste.

"Really good," he said, shaking water from his fingers and wiping his wet mouth on his sleeve.

Katsuro plunked the bucket on the stones below the well, found a rustic, long-handled old ladle amid the stack of buckets in the corner and motioned for her to join him. Positioning themselves comfortably on either side of the bucket, backs against the well and knees drawn up, he passed the scoop over to her for a sip.

Savoring the cold water, Sakura didn't realize how thirsty she'd been. Leaning her head back, she watched the vines sway in the breeze, birds fluttering back to their perches. She took another sip, then handed the ladle back to her warden.

It was serene, tranquil. A peaceful spot apparently on top of the world. But how did he factor into all of this. He was obviously so different from those men. She wondered if he secretly wanted to come down here, and maybe that's why he didn't put up so much of a fight.

She thought she'd try again.

"This is beautiful," she said.

"One of my favorite places," he said, his voice taking on a more relaxed tone than she'd ever heard.

"Does your group come up here often?" she asked, peaking up at him as she accepted the proffered ladle again.

"Enough," he said crisply, balancing his hands on his knees.

"Hmm," she hummed after a gulp of water. "You don't seem anything like those men you're traveling with." She propped the ladle beside the bucket. "Those guys really have it out for you," she added with a slight whisper, hoping he would feel comfortable enough to fraternize with her about their shared problem.

He turned his head to the side, looked over the bucket and fixed a skeptical gaze on her. " _You_ are the reason they have it out for me right now."

Sakura turned away quickly, but she was undeterred. She knew wasn't wrong. Some of those men had long-standing issues with him, she was sure of it. She lightened her tone and tried a different tack.

"So, are you the one in charge, or is it the big one?"

He kept his eyes on her face, mouth open slightly in indignance, and flicked his fingers out as if he couldn't believe her nerve.

"I mean, you're so young," she specified quickly, ignoring that it would probably draw a more ire. But if she could just determine who was in charge—

"You're pretty nosy," he snapped. She looked at him, then looked at the scenery, then turned back with another idea.

"So where did you grow up?" She added a smile at the end.

He rolled his eyes and stood up.

"If you want to tell me about your life, then I'd be happy to tell you about mine," he said, ending their nonexistent conversation.

Sakura couldn't argue with that so she decided to drop it. For now.

He pulled out two more buckets and filled them, then handed her the lighter one they'd been drinking from.

"Carry this one," he said, pushing the wire handle into her hand. "The stairs take a lot longer going back up."

Sakura saw him pick up the other two in either hand. He was being kind, she thought, but he didn't need to.

She looked at her arms, both still laced with red with welts from the bindings. She would have to channel chakra to her arm and hand, lending enough strength to make it back up. He didn't know it, she thought, but a task like that wasn't altogether bad because she gained the added benefit of accelerated healing. And if she had to do it for one arm, it was just as easy to do it for both.

"Give me another one. I can handle it," she said, free hand extended.

He just frowned at her. But if she thought she could, he thought, then who was he to say no.

"Well, ok..." he said, doubt in his voice, thinking she didn't know just how heavy those buckets were going to feel by the time they reached the top floor. He filled and hauled up a second one for her. "Just set it down when it gets too much for you, and I'll come back and get it."

"Ok," she said, not dissuaded.

Shaking his head at her stubbornness, smiling to himself that she was just acting strong, he slid the wire handle onto her hand. Retrieving his own, they began the long walk back up the stairs. He walked in front of her so she could go slower if she needed to.

A few floors from the top, though, his hands were burning. He didn't think he could make it without easing up.

'She's got to be feeling it,' he thought, 'just not saying anything.' He stopped at a landing and set his two buckets down.

The kunoichi came up behind him and set her buckets down as well, but did not seem as winded as he was. And she wasn't even rubbing her hands.

"Do you think we'll need to get more?" she asked. She peered past him at the locked door.

"More? I think four should be enough for today," he said, watching for telltale signs of fatigue. "But aren't you tired? Even I'm tired," he said honestly.

"No," she answered, eyes still darting around the platform and portal, searching for clues to what this floor held. "I channeled my chakra to my muscles, and into my hands, so the chakra did the work. It depletes me a little, but it adds in strength," she said, finally catching the hard look he was giving her. "It's medic-nin stuff," she finished lamely. Maybe he didn't understand what she was talking about, she thought.

"Then that would make you pretty strong too, right," he said summing her up, thinking she was hiding something.

She looked at him questioningly, not quite understanding where he was going.

"Strong? I'm far from being a good healer, but I am capable enough." She wasn't sure whether to be offended or not.

"No," he continued. "It should mean you're strong in battle, able to optimize your strength when you need it." He was logically summing up her capabilities. She obviously had a solid battle skill with chakra control, he thought, but then she why didn't she use it? Why didn't she put up a fight back at camp when there was a possibility of escape? She still regarded him with open confusion. He made it as simple as possible.

"It should mean you've got a strong punch, right?" he said.

"Well...uh...no," she cobbled together in response. He clearly didn't understand her role in the team. "I'm a medic-nin. I don't actively engage in combat. Medic's focus battle skills are evasion, to keep yourself alive to heal others," she said, reciting some of Konoha's med-nin mission code.

His eyebrows hitched up. Katsuro held back his opinion that she was about as good at evading enemy nin as her teammates were at protecting her from them.

"Come on," he said, hoisting the buckets back up to finish their task. "Let's finish up and get something to eat."

They returned to the top level; it looked much the same as when they left it hours before. The men were still lazing, fire still guttering unattended. They deposited the buckets just inside the door.

Leaning over, Katsuro said quietly, "Apple or orange?"

"Orange," she said, after deducing he was going to go find them some food. He nodded.

She watched him disappear into the darkness down the long walkway, and, finding the men scattered around the steps watching her, she decided to go the opposite direction. Though she didn't see any of the faces she'd marked out for trouble, none of them looked friendly.

By the time she had come to a stop a respectable distance from the gaping hole in the wall, Katsuro was striding back across the tiles with two oranges.

Katsuro nodded to sit down — "It's safe," he replied at the kunoichi's trepidation — and they dangled their legs off the edge of the broken floor.

Sakura took in the view of the canopy while she peeled apart her orange. Pulling her arm back, the kunoichi was about to fling an especially flat piece into the trees, when Katsuro stopped her. She turned wide eyes on him, confusion marked out by the thin frown-line between her brows.

"Don't throw it," he said quietly. "Someone could find it and track us."

Her shoulders dropped. She looked back out into the trees and let the peel drop from her fingers onto the ground between them.

Katsuro had another little pang of guilt. He innately understood that she wanted to see how far the peel could go, probably already had a limb or leaf picked out as a target. How many times had he done the same?

Without giving himself time to question why he felt like he need to make up for squelching her distracting game, Katsuro impulsively reached out beside him, found a small stone and passed it over to her.

"You can throw as many of those as you want," he said, peeking up at her face in the last moment to catch the corners of her mouth curl up into a small smile.

She accepted it, and pegged a tree trunk quite a distance from where they sat. They passed a good bit of time this way, silently seeing who could throw rocks the furthest.

"Put a little chakra behind it," he asked thoughtfully, curious to see how far it would go.

The tips of her fingers glowed green where they connected with the rock. She drew her arm back for a good pitch, and it went much farther that time before the pleasing hollow knock of stone hitting wood echoed back to them.

"Hmmph," he said, bouncing his rock in his hand, now even deeper in thought. Pleased with herself, Sakura threw a few more.

"So let me see if I understand this," he said at length. "As a medic ninja, your village sends you on missions into enemy territory, but doesn't expect you to fight?"

She shrugged and said, "Not exactly. We are trained to avoid conflicts to keep from being injured, thereby increasing our chances of healing others."

"So you don't fight," he said flatly.

She cleared her throat. "Well, not the way you mean, I'm sure...But no, medic nins don't _fight._ "

He caught the stone in his fist.

"Then you're a liability," he said, summing her up and dismissing her in the same breath.

It was partially true. He had picked her out as the weak spot on her team, but she had proved stronger than he ever expected. No, he thought, if anything, it was just another mark against her village. He waited to see how she would react to his goading.

"I am not," she snapped. Anger flaring, she met his challenging gaze with one of her own. "I happen to be an expert with a scalpel _and_ a kunai."

He couldn't hold back. "And yet none of those things kept you safe," he said with a smirk.

She turned her face away from him. It was a small gesture, but seemed the only thing she could do when faced with this line of questioning. She wouldn't tell him that she was overwhelmed by surprise, that she had been so deep in thought, so angry at her teammates for being truly awful, so angry at herself for letting everyone down again, that she simply wasn't paying attention to her surroundings. A mistake even a civilian wouldn't make, let alone a shinobi. And then the genjutsu. She ground her hand into a fist. It was a real weakness she was powerless against. How do you fight a genjutsu when you've never even experienced one?

She wouldn't admit any of this to him, no matter how much he questioned her. She was trying her best not to make any more mistakes now, and she was pretty sure that letting the enemy know your weakest points was a big one.

Ready to be done with this, Sakura took the easy way out and forced his hand.

"What is it you want from me? What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," his tone immediately lightened, but the kunoichi didn't trust it. "Really. I just wondered why your village tells you to go into battle — medic nin or not — yet doesn't teach you how to fight, that's all."

There was no appropriate response she could give voice too. He was wrong — of course she had been taught to fight, to survive — but here she was anyway, so her training must not have amounted to much. It wasn't her village at fault, she was the one always falling behind.

The kunoichi angrily folded her arms across her chest, pushed her lips into a thin line and blew a breath out through her nose, physically refusing to say anything to him.

He chuckled quietly. Anyone else would have brought it to blows. But provoking her was just plain fun, and she didn't disappoint with her responses to him.

But suddenly his amusement evaporated.

"Oh no, I forgot," he said to himself, jumping up from his spot. "I didn't put the cover back over the well," he said. He regarded her, unmoving from her position. "Don't get up, I'll be right back."

She turned her head a little in his direction, her previous expression replaced by one of skepticism, surprised that he would let her sit there by herself.

As if reading her thoughts he continued, "Don't worry, there's no where you can run to from here. And if you did, I'd catch you," he finished, smiling.

She could hear the grin in his tone of voice and rolled her eyes.

"I'll stay here," was all she said, making it perfectly clear that she was neither agreeing to his terms nor obeying his command, instead simply choosing not to get up. He laughed at her again and strode away.

His gamble with the merchant family had paid off. It _was_ much easier to have a friendly hostage than a belligerent prisoner. Katsuro merrily trotted down the old stairs, congratulating himself on his wise choice and sense of forethought in the face of a crisis.

Sakura kicked her legs out over the expanse again, savoring the freedom of being left by herself for a few minutes. She imagined that if she were a bird she could just fly away, right off the ledge.

Her thoughts were curtailed by the gravelly sound of foot fall chiming in her ear. As the footsteps approached from the direction of the stairwell, she turned her head a half turn to throw back a jibe at him over her shoulder.

"What did you forget this time," she said smirking, glad to have something to zing him with, swinging her legs in anticipation of his response.

But the rush of wind from behind would be her only clue that something was amiss.

Swiftly caught up by the column of her neck, Sakura was ripped away from the ledge and slammed bodily against the wall. White hot pain exploded behind her eyes and burned out her vision momentarily. Her fingers clawed at the single thick hand that pinned her to the wall, holding her chin up so high her feet did not touch the floor. She coughed and sputtered, trying desperately to draw in air.

"Did you think we wouldn't figure out what you did?" Raiden's voice growled into her face. "Now you're going to pay—"


	7. Black and Blue, and Red

Hot breath seared across her cheeks. Through tear-blurred vision, Sakura could make out the biggest one, Raiden, raging and hurling curses into her face. Several of the men she'd healed were closing in behind him.

But all her power to fight back was eclipsed by the most basic need for air. Her mind was screaming, her actions driven by desperate reflexes.

Jerking her knees up, Sakura grabbed Raiden's thick wrist and tried to wriggle up the wall and out from underneath his grasp. But this only stoked his anger.

He loosened the clamp-hold a moment just to slam her head against the wall again. Sakura choked down a gulp of air before the rest was crushed out of her windpipe. Another burst of pain radiated from the back of her head, this one clouding her vision and muffling out the sound around her.

Only adrenaline and the overpowering need to survive jolted Sakura back into action against the him.

"I should throw you off this mountain!" he yelled into her tear-streaked face. She shook her head fiercely, trying again to pry the hand off her neck and push herself up through his grasp. Her lungs were burning. Spots were swimming in front of her eyes— She clawed desperately at his hands, but she was starting to black out—

In the next moment, she inexplicably found relief. Pitched with tremendous force to the tile floor, Sakura's face and shoulders crumpled into the cloud of dust that sprang up at the disturbance. She drew in ragged heaves, her body coiling in on itself to minimize the pain. At the edge of her consciousness there were voices and yelling, but the exploding pain at the back of her head and terrifying tightness at her throat rendered the rest of her surroundings a blur.

The kunoichi had no notion of how long she'd been there, balled up against the pain, when she heard someone speaking, felt a warm hand at her back.

"Come on. Can you stand? We've got to move," was the urgent command. The warm pressure moved in a slight circular motion with the words. It sounded distant, but it was getting clearer.

"Come on," he said again. Sakura recognized the voice to be Katsuro's. He reached over to cup her shoulder then hooked his other arm around her back and pulled her up to standing.

"Can you walk? We're going downstairs," he said softly right next to her face. She was moving beside him, shoulders rounded and both hands at her throat, squeezing her eyes shut. Tears were still streaming down, but she was trying so hard to keep from crying out. She pushed her lips together and gave a nod.

Katsuro steered her down the ancient staircase, staying a step ahead of her and moving in tandem, just as they had done the previous night on the mountainside. By the time they arrived several floors below, her breathing was beginning to calm and her tears had started to ebb, even though the pain was still intense.

He led her across a dark room as big as the one upstairs, dimly lit by a scant few window openings near the stairwell. They walked straight through the middle of the room, to a narrow doorway on the opposite side. Katsuro toed the door back, and propped it open for her to pass through.

Hands still protectively clasped around her throat, Sakura blinked in the unexpected brightness. The room was small and paneled with wood, illuminated by a large open window on the wall opposite the door. There were no shutters here, and years of exposure to the elements had taken its toll on the once grand room. Only traces of red and yellow paint clung to the edges of the walls, sunk deep in the grooves of the old wood. Carved out of a corner was a tiny fireplace. Its rocks were as grey and worn as the paneling.

A strong breeze blew into the room as the door was opened. The cool air on her skin made Sakura feel marginally better.

"We'll be staying here," Katsuro said. He guided the kunoichi into the room and then stepped back to close the door behind them.

"Just a second," she heard him say, then he was gone.

Standing in the middle of the room, Sakura tried swallowing, but the muscles she normally took for granted rebelled from her command. It was agony. She slid a hand into her hair at her temple and balled it into a fist, trying to bite back the pain.

On the other side of the door, Katsuro flew through a hand seal and quietly dispatched the waiting clone to fetch water, with specific instructions to leave it outside when he returned. He stepped back into the room and noiselessly closed the door.

"Come on, let's sit down," he said with a sigh, motioning to the wall under the window.

Gingerly sitting down beside him, Sakura cried out suddenly and grabbed at the back of her legs, sliding the rest of the way down the little wall. Closing her hands over the offending areas, she tried to still her raspy cries. Katsuro leaned into her and carefully moved her fingers to examine the injury. Red scrapes tore down the backs of her knees.

'She was sitting on the ledge, when I went to get water. They must have dragged her off of it,' he thought. He let go of her hands and shook his head.

"So, did they show up right after I left?" he asked. She nodded once.

His tone hardened and he looked up into her face.

"You should have told me what you'd done to them. I would've never left you alone with them."

The kunoichi closed her eyes. A few thin tears streaked down, leaving fresh trails through her dirt-smeared cheeks.

He decided her guilty tears were as good as a confession. He'd found out about the injuries she'd inflicted from some of the men. They'd discovered it too, either back at camp or not long after, and had been lying in wait her, like predator and prey.

A sound outside the room drew Katsuro's attention. Before she could take notice of it, he was up and across the room, pushing the door closed behind him. He dismissed the clone without a word, only its hollow 'pop' echoed in the long, empty chamber. Katsuro readjusted the wire handle, and was just deciding how long he should wait before returning with bucket in hand, when he caught sight of the medic-nin through a crack in the door.

Left alone, the girl had begun the healing process. He stilled his breathing and leaned forward for a better look. A strip of pale light fell softly across his face in the darkness.

The kunoichi held a wretchedly marked hand in front of her, watching it until a little glimmer of light appeared at the edges. When the glow wrapped up around the back and sufficiently engulfed it, then she raised her hand to her throat and closed her eyes. An eerie pale green light seeped from her hand to encompass her neck. Katsuro couldn't help but be amazed as the welts on her hand faded under the diaphanous glow.

'Healing chakra,' he thought. It looked so different from what he was in command of. He tightened a fist, the soreness jarring his memory. That's right, it was only just moments ago that his hands were edged with red, he thought.

But this, this soothing, cooling light was so different. He hadn't paid much attention while she healed the men in camp. It was quick, methodical work; now she took her time. Moving hands over her throat effortlessly, fluidly, her fingers swayed slightly as if guided by some unseen current. The purpling marks on her arm, the ones he'd inflicted, had been washed away completely. Katsuro could only imagine the same type of restorative healing was going on underneath the surface.

The kunoichi leaned her head back against the wall, ran fingers over the column of her neck, then tipped her head to the side. A glowing hand slid up, brushed past her jawline, and carefully followed the curve of her neck just below her ear.

Pink hair fell away, and Katsuro narrowed his eyes.

Exposed there, marring that impossibly pale skin, were more angry red lines — but these were in the shape of fingers.

The girl's hand covered it momentarily, the length of her neck saturated in that translucent green, and when she slid her hand back down to her throat, the marks were gone.

Katsuro knew he should feel better, she was healed and no damage was done, but the unexpected tightness in his stomach didn't relent.

The light around her hand was softening, fading away. The kunoichi rolled her head back upright and let her hand fall to her lap, the glow of chakra gone completely. Eyes closed, shoulders rising and falling slowly with her breathing, the medic seemed to be taking a break from the healing process. A breeze ruffled the tendrils around her neck.

Katsuro drew in a breath, and pushed the door open.

Plunking down a small bucket of water in front of her, he returned to his spot and passed her the ladle.

She forced down a small sip and grimaced. It took a few swallows to test her healing before she could whisper a raspy, "thank you."

"What were you thinking?" he said shaking his head, anger seeping into his voice at the unbidden memory of red streaks on her otherwise perfect neck. "Did you think they wouldn't notice?"

She closed her eyes. New tears slipped out uncontrollably at the harsh edge in his voice.

"Stop," he said, instead of 'sorry.' He didn't mean to hurt her more, but he just couldn't put it into words. "Finish healing yourself," he added quietly, motioning to her other hand.

She rotated her head gingerly against the wall to look down at her other unhealed hand, still crisscrossed with red and purple lines.

"No," she said softly, moving her head back and closing her eyes. "That will heal. I need to reserve my chakra."

He scoffed and leaned his head back too. Chakra saved seemed pointless to him. Better to be burned off fighting and live to see another day.

The breathing beside him grew deep, and he thought she might be falling asleep there against the wall. But before he could decide whether or not to move her to the floor, her eyelids fluttered open and her breathing returned to its staccato.

"I don't feel so good," she uttered after a moment. "My head..." she said, reaching back to touch the incredibly sore, swollen area beneath her hair.

Katsuro just watched her, unsure of what to do, her green eyes more glassy and dull than he'd ever seen them.

"I think," she continued, "I think I might have a small concussion. I can't be sure," she trailed off drowsily then came back around. "I probably shouldn't rest just yet."

Brown eyes blinked at her.

"Um, okay," was all he could think to say while he waited for her to do...well, to do whatever it was medic nins do.

"Talk to me," she said turning her head to look at him.

"Huh?" was all he could manage, confusion plastered across his face.

"Just tell me…tell me about…yourself or something…. Anything." She swallowed thickly and fixed languid eyes on him. "I need to stay awake for a little while."

Katsuro was surprised, but understood her request. He tried to order his thoughts into something coherent. He would rather have been sent down the mountain to fetch a cure, but he'd try to do as she asked. Just enough to keep her awake, he thought.

"I, uh...there's nothing much to tell," he mumbled.

Katsuro sat forward and raked a hand through his hair.

"Really, I don't..." he stopped with a long sigh, then sat back and pulled his knees up. "I mean, I haven't..." he trailed off, stealing a glance at her.

She was already asleep again.

"Hey, hey..." he rocked her shoulder gently. She woke momentarily, but was beginning to doze again.

"This isn't working," he said, shaking her shoulder, becoming concerned. "Hey," he said into her face. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead—"

He turned to face her, pulling her away from the wall a bit in an attempt to keep her awake. She sat still, eyes half open, but didn't speak. He had the disconcerting feeling that she was looking at him but didn't really see him. He reached quickly for the water.

Katsuro was beginning to feel the first real throngs of panic, that something may be seriously wrong with her. He cursed inwardly.

"Here, have some water," he said, pushing the scoop into her hands. She accepted it instinctively and took a few sips.

Much to his relief she revived a bit. He wouldn't waste the opportunity to get her talking — he didn't want her falling asleep again.

"Tell me about yourself, your home, things you like…. Anything," he said quickly, scooting closer and looking intently into her face.

She rubbed her hand across her forehead and muttered "yeah," trying to organize her fuzzy thoughts.

"Tell me about someplace you like to go," he said again, trying to prompt her into talking. He didn't think he could wake her a second time.

Rubbing her eyes, she began, "There is a bridge," but stopped with a tired sigh. She took another sip of water before starting again.

"There is a bridge," she said, "over the river that runs through the center of Konoha. I used to walk there with my parents when I was young, and we would throw bread over to feed the ducks." She smiled wearily, eyes closing. "I always liked that bridge," she said with a long exhale.

Katsuro hummed in appreciation.

"What color is it?" he said quickly.

"What?" she asked, opening her eyes, unsure of what he was asking about.

"The bridge. What color is it?"

"Oh. Red," she supplied.

"Keep going," he pushed her. "Where else do you like to go in your village?"

She sleepily told him about a sandy bank below the bridge where the fishers sat. A tiny park tucked between a few buildings where a single tree grew. A flat field beside their training grounds where flowers bloomed.

When she began to flag, Katsuro asked her to fill in the picture with a little more details…. Stray cats gravitated to the fisher's spot below the bridge and were always eager for a scratch on the head. She liked to sit under the tree in the park and read during the summer months. The blossoms in the field were yellow and only lasted about a week each spring, but it was beautiful. She looked forward to it every year.

He prompted her for a long time, heedless of the lengthening shadows on the mountainside, the orange light clinging to the edge of the old stone window.

He was unable to fight the allure of the serene images she painted, scenes which clashed horribly with his own experiences of village life. This tranquil world was foreign to him, and he listened just as intently as he had earlier when she explained the old folk tale about the wandering monk. In fact he was even more fascinated because these places were real, and they were connected to her. And through her, they connected to him.

But eventually even his coaxing could not keep her awake. Her eyelids fluttered tiredly in the grey light. She stopped him, saying she was "just too tired," and he frowned a little in disappointment. He had forgotten about her injury.

"It's okay," she said, mistaking his expression for that of medical concern, and ran a hand absently over the back of her head. "I'm okay. I think I can rest now."

She turned a fraction and lay directly down on her side on the old floor, her face smooth against the cold, stone tiles. Moving the water, he scooted away to give her a little more room. She was asleep almost instantly.

Katsuro sat back and looked at her sleeping form, thinking about the awful twist of events that brought them down there. The tranquil images of her village were obliterated by the scene which greeted him at the top of the stairs.

Seeing her, pinned against the wall and struggling for air, sent him into a fury. He roared at them to put her down, but it only moved in slow motion. Their stammered excuses, the fist he leveled at the Raiden, sending him flying into a column, the rest of the men scattering like mice.

The surge of chakra, scalding across his chest, struggling to break free, surprised him. His vision bled crimson. He wanted to kill them, he felt it in his bones. He knew they felt it too.

'Good,' he thought, remembering the fear in their eyes as he demanded an explanation.

He forced the hellish chakra down as he moved across the room to collect her, deciding immediately to separate her from the rest of the group and their festering resentment.

But hours later, his anger was still fresh. He caught sight of the red scrapes tearing down the backs of her knees, glaringly out of place even in the dim light of early evening. He grit his teeth and turned away.

She was his responsibility. That had been made abundantly clear before he left. This whole mission was his responsibility, he thought darkly, flicking a stone across the room. But he didn't expect that his group would try to kill their hostage. Or that their hostage, he thought with a sigh, would be so much trouble.

She certainly was full of surprises, he thought as he rose to leave the room. Katsuro quietly closed the door behind him and created a clone to fetch some firewood, but he didn't like the looks of this one and changed his mind about the task.

"Stay there and guard the door. Don't move," Katsuro said in a threatening tone. "Understand?"

An identical replica of Katsuro shrugged and rolled his brown eyes.

Katsuro narrowed his. 'He'll have to do," he thought. 'Besides, I'll only be gone a minute.'

"Whatever you say… _boss_ ," the clone muttered petulantly before folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall.

This time, it was Katsuro who rolled his eyes. He walked back across the long, dark room to gather wood from the floor below.

Katsuro trotted down the steps, thinking about her. The medic-nin had been pretty sneaky, he didn't suspect it of her. She was naive, though, to think that she'd get away with hurting a bunch of battle-tough thugs, suspicious of every move.

He arrived at a hole in the wall where an ancient tree had toppled into the structure. Its dead limbs were scattered all over the tiles, and made gathering dry wood an easy chore.

Rearranging an armful of limbs, he thought back over the last few days. The men had watched her at camp and targeted her on their trek up the mountain. He simply did not see what was coming. They had lain in wait for a moment to pounce, and he provided it for them.

'Bastards,' he thought, snapping a particularly thick branch. They would take their revenge on her and ruin his mission, killing two birds with one stone.

But his anger went beyond their traitorous actions. There was nothing new there. Those men were always trying to take him down. They hated him, and the feeling was mutual. No, there was something else bothering him. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Finished with his task, Katsuro took the stairs two at a time with enough wood to last them for at least a few nights. He was almost at the door when he remember the clone he'd created.

 _"Again?!"_ he whispered harshly into the apparently empty room. Raising two fingers from under the armload of wood, he muttered the words to disperse the clone and was rewarded with a distant "Uh-oh—" from some dark corner of the long hall, followed by the tell-tale "pop" of the clone bursting back into nothingness.

Katsuro shook his head. 'Troublemakers, all of them,' he grumbled to himself.

It was like this every time he made a clone. They were just as bad as the men from camp. This clone must have decided to find a way out as soon as Katsuro left the floor.

'Well, at least he didn't get far enough away to do any damage,' he thought, then hooked his foot around the door to close it behind him.

Katsuro set to work on starting a fire. He fished a piece of flint out of his pocket, unstrapped the kunai from his thigh holster, and began the tedious job of flicking sparks onto the pile of twigs.

He continued to mull his actions with the soft ting-tinging of metal on rock.

It made him furious to see them hurt her, and he was unprepared for that. He just exploded. Katsuro closed his eyes on the scene replaying in his head. No, he had no answers for what had happened. He had just acted on instinct. And he knew his instincts very well. Or, at least…he thought he did.

Finally, a few sparks took hold, and the top-most twigs began to smolder. He puffed on the bright red embers, coaxing them to flame, then sat back beside the hearth to feed more sticks into the little fire.

There was just something about her that brought out an unusual response in him, he decided. Perhaps it was because they were so close in age. Or perhaps it was because she was a girl, although he'd almost forgotten about that fact. Almost.

He looked over at her sleeping form, still unmoving in the flickering orange light.

No, he thought, that pale little slip of neck hidden beneath her hair was most definitely girl. He blew out a breath and trained his eyes on the deep blue darkness filling the window above her.

He wished she would have told him, knowing full well that was an unreasonable thing to expect, that she would actually confess to her captor that she had messed up the insides of the rest of his group.

She had fought back in the only way she knew how. She hadn't given up. He could admire that. She was tough.

He started to feed some larger branches into the fire.

With a few battle skills, he thought, she'd probably be a force to be reckoned with. At least she could have defended herself against thugs like those men.

A little flare of anger ignited inside him again at Konoha for sending someone like her out into the world only half-prepared. Those selfish villagers, only doing what's best for themselves. For all the beautiful scenery she related from her home, the people who'd trained her had obviously not seen fit to teach her to properly defend herself.

More than that, they had thrown her to the wolves. He had never had a choice — they sealed his fate the moment he was born. But her, she believed in them, trusted that they would be there for her. She was probably still blindly hoping they would come after her.

Well her superiors acted true to form, didn't they, he thought, snatching up another stick. They paired her with a lethal teammate and left her to be the target. When she was no longer of use to their mission, she was simply discarded, just like trash.

'Just like me,' he thought, grinding his hand into a tight fist around the dry wood. It splintered easily in his hand.

This pink-haired girl was giving him completely new reasons to hate Konoha.

A familiar tightness slipped across his chest. The edges of his vision turned red. For the second time that day, the malevolent chakra locked inside him arced out in response to his anger.

He looked down at the soft fragments of wood in his hand and on his lap, and laughed at himself. He needed to calm down.

He checked quickly to make sure he had not woken the kunoichi up, but she was still unmoving. In the brighter light of the fire he could see goosebumps on her arms. Even though the room was warmer now, she was probably still cold from the floor, he thought. He needed to get some supplies from upstairs.

'A medic-nin who can't fight back. Yeah, she's a liability,' he thought, standing and brushing away the bits of wood and dust. She could easily be picked off by men like them. Men like him, he amended.

That thought didn't sit well with him. He didn't want to be the one who beat others down. He'd been on the receiving end of that for too long. He couldn't remember a time when there wasn't someone who wanted to see him fail. He frowned at that thought, but slipped the kunai back in its holster.

No, maybe he could help her, show her a few things, he thought as quietly crossed the room. That way if she was hellbent on getting into scrapes with these jackals, then at least she could get herself out again.

Opening the door, a long square of light stretched out across the main hall.

And just maybe, if he helped her, it would squelch that unnameable feeling, that twist in his gut, that thing that caused his power to surge and drove him to never want to see her hurt like that again.

He swung the door closed. Only a few streaks of orange light slanted onto the floor, but it was more than enough to find his way back again.

* * *

It wasn't until much later that a groggy Sakura roused from sleep. Light filtered in through the window. She sat up slowly, the now familiar blankets pooling in her lap.

Her throat was sore, her head was tender and everything was stiff. She couldn't remember her chakra being this low before.

Sakura knew the healings and exertions of the past few days would take a toll, but she never dreamed it would be this bad. And the beating she took simply pushed her body over the edge.

Slowly, she brushed her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ears.

No, she thought, if she was honest with herself, she hadn't taken into account how much the stress, the fear, the doubt would eat into her ability to rejuvenate. She was still approaching this whole ordeal from a distance, as if it were a case study or a test in class.

'Yeah, well, textbooks don't cover the fear,' she thought. That was like carrying another wound altogether.

Trying to piece together the events of the previous day, she remembered only parts of the painful attack, but nothing further. Sakura could only surmise that the men had found out what she'd done when she'd healed them.

Looking around, she wondered absently if she had been abandoned or imprisoned here, locked away until they were ready to move again. It wouldn't surprise her.

She scanned the room for clues, but nothing pointed to captivity. Quite the opposite in fact: a blanket was rolled against the farthest wall, beside it was thrown a dusty rucksack, white-plated ashes smoked faintly in the tiny fireplace, and the whole room had a pleasant, singed smell to it. Beside the hearth was piled a small assortment of fruit and the water bucket. She looked for a lock on the door, but found it was opening instead. The answer to her question came bounding in, capped with a mop of unruly brown hair.

"Hey! Feeling better?" Katsuro asked, his mouth creeping up into a smile. He seemed genuinely glad to see her awake.

"Yes," the kunoichi croaked. Katsuro immediately passed her the wooden ladle with fresh, cold water.

"Thanks," she said, wiping her mouth.

"Do you remember anything?" he said, turning to gather up a few pieces of fruit, then sitting down beside her with the selection.

"Not much," she said quietly, choosing an orange. She turned it over and over in her hands, noticing that one hand was smooth while one still bore the angry marks from the leather ties.

He sat quietly too, watching her and waiting.

She stopped and looked out the window, squinting a bit. Her mood was distinctly sad, and her face looked drawn and tired in the morning light.

Katsuro decided to ease her burden.

Taking the orange from her hands to peel it for her, he chided quietly, "Next time, tell me what you plan on doing so at least I'll know what's coming down the pike." He paused, tore the orange in two and handed her a half. She silently accepted.

"Or...let me help you do it," he finished matter-of-factly, punctuating it with a brief grin.

Whatever she expected him to say, this wasn't it. She studied his face, and he returned her gaze nonchalantly, chewing the orange segments as he waited for her to process what he'd said.

Katsuro knew she was probably expecting some kind of recrimination from him, but he would issue none. He didn't want to explain himself either. He wasn't mad at her, they deserved what they got and had he been in her position he would have done the same thing. He just wanted to get past it, keep her alive and finish the mission, he told himself.

The kunoichi looked back down at the peeled fruit in her hands.

She wasn't sure if she could trust what he was saying, after all, he apparently knew what she had done to the members of his group. And though she knew there was no love lost there, they were still his teammates.

"I didn't intend to do a lot of harm, just make myself needed," she said honestly, not bothering to look up. "If you _need_ a medic nin, then you'll keep me alive longer."

"They deserved it," he reassured. "Eat your orange and don't worry about it.

"And if they come to you asking to be healed after yesterday, well, you tell them to come see me," he said, smiling wickedly.

Standing, Katsuro sprinkled a little water on the still-warm ashes.

"We'll stay down here for the rest of the time," he said, adding quietly, "I don't care what they do upstairs."

He turned to replace the ladle with the bucket when she noticed the back of his hand, a little swollen and clearly scabbed over. It definitely wasn't like that when they were hauling the water upstairs.

"Are you—" she stopped, unsure if she should say anything. He looked at her questioningly. "Your hand," she said, nodding to the scabs across the backs of his knuckles.

"What?" he said, turning his hand over. "Oh. I'm a fast healer, don't worry about me." The ladle slid down the side of the bucket so he hooked it over the side. "But, I would like for you to finish healing your other hand, and your legs, and anything else that hurts. Don't reserve your chakra — I want you to heal yourself."

"Does that mean we'll be leaving soon?" she said quietly, thinking that he probably didn't want Itachi knowing about a situation like this.

He shook his head, picked up another orange and tossed it into the air before settling down against the opposite wall to peel it.

"No. Actually," he said, "I have some other plans."

Tearing off large sections of rind, Katsuro casually let a piece of information slip.

"Those men, upstairs? They aren't shinobi, you know," he said, eying her surreptitiously. He wanted to see her reaction. He suspected she didn't know. And if she didn't, she should have.

The kunoichi waited, barely breathing, feeling for all the world like she was caught in a trap. She knew some of them weren't, but she hadn't been able to size up all of their abilities. Another amateur mistake she was sure her teammates would never make.

"So, I'm interested...I want to see what passes for training in your village," he said with calculated carelessness.

But Sakura froze. This was to be her punishment, she thought. He was going to take her on himself. She cursed herself for allowing even a glimmer of trust.

"I want to know, if you are out here," he said, his tone growing deadly serious, "and you're a ninja from one of the most powerful villages around, and you can't tell the difference between a common thug and a trained shinobi, then what exactly did they teach you in that academy of yours?" He nearly spit out the word "academy" and clenched the half-peeled orange tightly in his fist for a moment.

Sakura turned away from him, anger warring with her shame at his very accurate remarks. She frowned deeply — but she absolutely would not respond to his provocations.

"You should have been able to handle them," he continued. "And if you've got that much control over your chakra," he waved airily at her hands, "that you can seal up a cut with your pinky finger, then you should have at least been able to land a punch on one of them."

He was mocking her. Anger won out, and it took nearly all of her self control not to yell right back at him, but the pounding in her head was increasing with her temper.

"Like I said, you're a liability," he finished ungraciously. "And you're a liability I can't risk."

Words like "useless" and "burden" rang in her ears. Her breath caught in her chest.

Even an enemy nin could see it, she thought.

Disarmed completely, Sakura closed her eyes. The anger she had clung to for support simply evaporated.

She looked down again at her mismatched hands, thinking she'd like to cry but feeling the utter pointlessness of it. It was all pointless. You can heal physical wounds, but maybe some flaws never disappear, some things are never overcome.

She had always made mistakes, always fallen behind. Her two teammates were geniuses, the prodigy and the robot. They were well suited to each other: both killers, both silent as the tomb. They all received excellent training, but Sakura alone couldn't keep up. Her movements were slower, less self-assured. She had flourished as a beginning medic, and always thought the rest would fill in eventually. But maybe she was wrong about that too...

It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, it just wasn't enough.

And this stupid boy in front of her could have no knowledge of that, yet here he was accurately summing her up after just a few days. His words were a little less mean, but just the same: A target. A liability. A dead weight. She shook her head at this terrible introspection. It must be true, she thought.

"Well, we have several more days together," Katsuro said as he stood up, "and I'm not going to fail this mission. If they are going to try to come after you every time I've got my back turned, then you're going to need to fight back."

He knew she couldn't take him, but at least she could fight off some low-level lackeys who thought nothing of destroying them both. He wasn't about to share that little piece of dissenting information with her, though.

Gathering up the orange and rest of the peels, Katsuro frowned at her change in demeanor. He expected some kind of retort, but she looked like she was about to curl up into a ball. He stood quietly, and folded his arms over his chest. He understood.

He hadn't intended to beat her down, but he told her the painful truth. Looking down at the top of her head, Katsuro sighed as he came to realize something else about her: Even with as much trouble as she had caused, he discovered he actually preferred her fighting spirit to the defeated attitude she projected now.

He walked back over, lightening his tone to goad her a little.

"If you're a _real_ ninja, then I want to see what you can do," he said with a grin, but she didn't respond. Katsuro stood beside her quietly.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he zinged her with it. "Did you actually go to academy, or was it just some kind of first-aid training class?"

She looked up finally at that one. The indignation that flitted across her face before she sputtered out "Of course I went to academy!" was the response he'd hoped for. He looked at her eyes for a moment, clear and leaf-green, and sparkling with irritation. It was a welcome change from last night.

Her anger brought a smile to his face.

Katsuro set down the peeled orange at her side, leaving it rocking gently on an extra large piece of rind, and turned to leave.

"Eat your orange, then heal yourself as much as you can," he said good-naturedly from the doorway. "Get some more rest if you need to. I won't go easy on you, but we won't start till you're ready." He closed the door behind him and was gone again.

Sakura rubbed her eyes. Fatigue was setting in. The whole thing was confusing and exhausting. She quietly ate the orange he'd peeled for her and thought over what he'd said. His statements were hurtful, his attitude confounding. What had he meant?

She finished her fruit and tried to align her thoughts through the quickly encroaching drowsiness. Was he going to pummel her once she regained her strength?

None of it made sense. She shut it all out and slid back under the cover, pulling it over her eyes to block out the light that was causing her head to pound even more.

* * *

Sakura awoke again at dusk, confused at the dim light and stiff from laying still for so long. She rubbed her eyes. Outside the window, blue patches in the treetops were fading to grey.

She looked around the room wearily, conversations and events of the past two days running together in her mind. Beside her was a small dish with rice and a bit of meat, but she didn't eat it yet. She was just glad to have some time alone.

Sakura pushed the blankets back to examine the abrasions on her legs. These would be the easiest to heal and require the least amount of chakra. Starting there first, she sheathed her fingertips in light, and ran a hand over the long scrapes, massaging the cells underneath to regenerate a little more quickly. When she finished with one leg, she switched hands to work on the other, noticing a stiffness in her other hand.

She had forgotten the wound from the previous day — or was it days? — she felt like she had been asleep more than she had been awake. She examined her hand and arm, the welts now faded to pink strips, her wrist stiff but not as swollen as it had been. But inside her arm, almost at the fold of her elbow, the strip of skin worn away by the bindings was already healed over with newer, darker skin.

'Great,' she thought. 'Too late to keep it from scarring.'

She stopped herself, shaking her head ruefully at her own vanity.

"As if any of that matters now," she muttered to herself. Here she was, worrying about scar tissue when she didn't even know if she would survive this ordeal. She clutched her arm and distractedly ran her thumb over the new skin while she thought. Home was feeling more and more out of reach for her.

Sakura didn't know precisely how long she'd been gone, but she did know it was more than enough time for them to track her, and her sensei was one of the best trackers around. She didn't want to think about why no one had come for her. Maybe they couldn't find her up here, she thought lamely. Maybe. She just didn't know.

Doubt crept in. Maybe they weren't coming for her, she thought. Maybe it was as he had said, they had truly abandoned her. It wasn't Konoha policy as she knew it, but there was no denying that no sign of them had been felt for days.

But, casting around desperately for some reasoning to cling to, she thought it was also fact that as long as they were holed up in this mountaintop temple, she was safe from whatever fate Itachi had planned for her. That was something, at least. Maybe she could use the time to prepare a plan for their way back down. Heal herself, regain her strength, then make a break for it once they left. It made her feel better just to have a ghost of hope in the darkness, even if it was self made.

Sakura healed her still-injured hand, then finished tending to the abrasions on her other leg. She ran her fingers absently over her throat, checking its progress, then prodded the tender spot on the back of her head, satisfied that the swelling had mercifully dropped.

Scooping out water and taking up the bowl of rice, Sakura returned to sit in the window and watch the dying light wash over the forest while she ate. She must have found some measure of peace, because her thoughts and fears finally quieted. Either that or it was extreme exhaustion, she chuckled to herself. At any rate, for the moment, she felt okay. And that was a monumental achievement, she admitted.

Though she hadn't been up for very long, sleep tugged on her weary body. As a medic-nin, she knew this was the limit her body could take, functioning as both doctor and patient.

Sakura slipped back under the covers and turned her face to watch the deepening shadows creep through the treetops, until the first truly restful sleep fell over her.


	8. Struggles and Triumphs, Part 1

Rubbing his chin gingerly, Katsuro eyed the girl with astonishment. She stared him down, cracking her knuckles.

"Ready for another?" she said with a ruthless grin.

"No," he said laughing. She laughed too, then extended her hand. She gave him a glittering smile as she pulled him up off the ground, hair flipping around her face.

Later, over the extra helpings of rice and meat he'd managed to sneak from the food stores upstairs, she was still glowing from her accomplishment.

"Thanks," she said earnestly. Her cheeks were still flushed and that smile had yet to leave her face.

"Yeah," Katsuro said with a breathy chuckle.

He didn't know who felt better.

The past several days had been a whirlwind of struggles and triumphs.

* * *

Almost as soon as the girl had recovered, Katsuro made good on his resolution to teach her a few self-defense moves. He began scouting out areas to spar. Well lit, not too dusty. Flat, not falling apart.

Turned out, the floor where the tree had broken through the wall was the best lit. While she slept, he was was free to use his abilities without fear of discovery. So he made a handful of clones to dismantle the top of the tree and pile the rest of the wood along the wall. It did open up quite a bit of light into the room. But it came at a price.

Katsuro didn't know how it started, but he looked up just in time to see a brown-haired clone curse, haul back a limb and knock down his identical copy. The rest of the clones left their tasks behind to watch the fight. A few jostled their neighbors for a better view, which led to the first ones pushing back just a little bit harder.

Katsuro stood apart from the throng of exact replicas of himself, arms folded, jaw locked. He knew where this was going. Before long they'd all be fighting, and then there would be a bigger mess to clean up than before they started.

"Get to work," he warned sternly, "or I will make you all go away."

The one with the branch raised over his head stopped mid-swing to yell back at his maker. "You can't do that—"

Seizing the opening, his opponent barreled into his stomach, knocking him backwards into the row of clones. It was a pile of arms, legs and identical brown heads.

Katsuro shook his head. It's like this every time, he thought, rubbing a hand distractedly over the tugging ache at his midsection.

One clone crawled out from underneath the dogpile and raised his fist at Katsuro.

"Come on! I can take you! Don't underestimate—"

But he didn't get to finish.

Two fingers raised in front of his chest, Katsuro softly muttered the word "Kai," the universal term for releasing a jutsu. It was the first technique he'd ever learned. And because of these knuckle-headed clones, he used it far more than anything else in his arsenal.

Bodies popped like invisible fireworks in front of him. Branches raised for bashing suddenly clattered to the ground. When the smoke cleared, Katsuro was alone and there was still wood scattered everywhere. But he was glad to see that they'd managed to get about half the work done before they rebelled. He finished clearing up the rest of the wood, enjoying the quiet.

* * *

After another day of recuperation, Katsuro felt like she was well enough to begin a little training. He wanted to find out more about her skill level, and was curious about her chakra control. If it was as strong as he suspected, he couldn't understand why she didn't use it to fight.

But he would bring all of that up in the morning. Tonight, he had other things on his mind.

"Do you read a lot?" Katsuro blurted out from under his blanket, breaking the silence of the room.

"Huh?" The surprise was clearly written on her face even in the dim firelight.

"You like to read?" he said again.

"Yeah, I guess," she said, not sure at all where he was going with this.

"You told me you liked to read, when you were first, you know, knocked out," he said, not realizing the jumble his words were making.

"What? Why would I be talking about that?" She turned under her blanket to look at him, trying to determine whether he was teasing her or not.

"You told me things to keep yourself awake when we first got down here," he said seriously. She looked a little horrified at the idea. "You don't remember?"

"No," was all she could manage. She didn't know what "things" she could have said, but it didn't sound good.

He rolled on his back and sighed. He wanted her to talk about herself a little more, although he wouldn't admit it to her. And maybe she would throw in some more descriptions of that strange tranquil life she led, although he wouldn't admit it to himself.

"You said you liked to sit under a tree in a little park, a park with buildings all around it, and that you liked to read there. I wondered what you liked to read," he said nonchalantly, hoping he didn't sound too interested.

"Oh," she said, understanding smoothing the wrinkles off her brow. He turned to face her again when it seemed she would continue. "Well, I mostly read academy text books, then when I began my med-nin training it was mostly scrolls from our library. Pretty boring stuff really."

"But it's a nice place to read," she added as an afterthought.

"Oh," he said quietly, half hoping she would continue. When she didn't, he ventured a piece of information forward.

"You know, there is a scroll room here. Or…there was," he said. "It's mostly all gone now, but there are a few old scrolls left in the corner. I could show them to you tomorrow."

She would have been suspicious had his voice held the least tone of, well, anything. But as it was, he just sounded like any other kid who stumbled over his words. She was so used to his self-confidence and take-charge attitude, that she had forgotten that they were really the same age. Across from her, brown eyes held a measure of something child-like. He was waiting for her answer, unsure but hopeful.

She decided to take his words at face value. "Um…. Okay."

They were silent again for a while, until Sakura decided to repay his kindness with a few questions of her own.

"What about you? Do you like to read?"

"Me? No," he said, shaking his head as if he'd just tasted something terrible.

Sakura laughed, taken somewhat aback at his vehemence to reading.

"Not like we had a library in camp," he said, laughing too.

"So you grew up in a camp and not in a village?" She was trying not to sound to eager herself, but she was not about to let that scrap of information pass unnoticed.

His open expression closed immediately, transforming into a calculating smirk. He saw right through her.

She just smiled pleasantly back, undeterred by his change in attitude. She knew what she was doing too, even if she wasn't as adept as he was.

He snorted a little, shook his head and rolled over under his blanket to face the wall.

"I'll take you to see the scrolls tomorrow," he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. She laughed quietly at that, then turned away from him to sleep.

* * *

They padded softly down the steps in the morning light.

"How is you're healing going?" he called back to her tentatively. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, much better," she said.

"Good," Katsuro's voice floated around the curved wall.

He had wanted to begin sparring with her today, had hoped to, but wasn't sure how to broach it. He didn't want to order her to fight. He wanted to test her skills, see what she was good at and what she wasn't.

It sure wasn't how he was treated, he thought, stopping finally at a crumbling old door. But he didn't think he could do that to her. He didn't want to put her into a bad situation and tell her to fight her way out. If he had to name it, then he guessed he wanted her to trust him.

Katsuro pushed hard, and on the second shove the door swung slowly open.

This floor was more of a broken off ledge than a recognizable room. Whatever had fallen away from the building had done the most damage here.

And true enough, there was a pile of scrolls in one of the empty racks in the corner, as well as what looked like oddly-shaped, broken metal bowls. But they were huge.

The pair carefully made their way across the crumbling floor, sticking as close to the wall as possible. Below them and above them, floors and walls jutted out to various lengths. It made Sakura feel like she was standing in a layer of a giant cake.

She carefully unrolled one of the brittle scrolls. In the centermost layers there was enough protection to preserve some fragments of writing. Expecting to find a historical or religious text, Sakura was surprised to find a clear musical notation among the unfamiliar writing.

Beside her Katsuro was rocking one of the curved fragments with his toe, when he realized what it was.

"Oh! It's a bell!" He squatted to examine the remains of an intricate floral design etched onto the outside of the rim. "It must have been huge," he said finally.

Sakura agreed. She looked up the crumbling side of the building again then swept her eyes back down the rock-strewn mountainside.

"Could this have been an enormous bell tower," she wondered aloud. "Maybe that's where all those boulders are from."

Katsuro shrugged, then left behind the pitted metal fragment to look over her shoulder. "So what's in the scrolls?"

In her hands, the document was coming apart before she could even roll it back up.

"Some musical notes, not much else is left though," she said before tipping the pieces back onto the pile of scrolls in the rack.

The wall was full of empty cubby holes, like the kind used for storing scrolls in the Kage's tower. She looked down the line of rack into the room behind it. In the darkness there were more racks, all empty.

She looked back at the sad pile of left-behind scrolls. "Guess the music ones weren't worth taking," she said with a soft laugh.

"Huh. Yeah," he said, laughing a little too. "Well, I have someplace else to show you, too. Come on," he beckoned, and they carefully picked their way back to the stairwell.

Climbing a few more stairs, he came to a stop at another inconspicuous door and slowly pushed it open.

Behind it was another broad hall, just like all the rest, but this one was flooded with light from a massive hole in the wall.

The kunoichi walked slowly to the middle of the room, looking around for the object he wanted her to see. Finding none, she turned back to him with a questioning expression.

"Hold out your hands," he said. She silently held them out in front of her.

"Good. Now show me how you surround them in healing chakra."

She did as he asked, not sure where this was going but not finding any harm in it. Her hands glowed as if plunged in the middle of two green orbs.

"Good," he said again. "Now take all of that light and line your fingers with it. You know, the way you focus it into your fingertips? But this time, curl it over the backs of your fingers."

She turned her hands over, and they both watched as the pale green light amassed over her knuckles, turning a shade deeper as it coalesced.

"Make a fist," he said, attention fixed on her hands.

She did. The amorphous light molded itself around her fingers, covering the backs of her knuckles ominously.

"Yeah," he said with a throaty laugh. He was right. It would deliver a wallop of a punch and protect her hands at the same time.

He took a step back and turned a shoulder to her, holding his forearm as if making a muscle.

"Now, punch me as hard as you can, with your fist just like that," he said, bracing for the blow.

Whatever he was expecting, she did not deliver. It still was as light as a bare-knuckled punch. He should have at least been knocked off balance.

He smacked the outside of her arm as it retracted, causing her elbow to wobble unsteadily.

"Do it again," he said. She came at him a little harder, but not much. It was still very loose. He was not going to let this go, though.

"You fight like you're in a staged match," he needled her. "You're waiting to see how I will respond. Don't wait."

He nodded for her to come at him again and braced for another punch, but this time she didn't move. He had to think of another way to get her going.

"Come on, I want you to punch me. I want to see what you've got," he said with a half-smile. "Here's your chance, you can beat the hell out of me."

"This is what you brought me her for," she asked angrily.

Frowning, she folded her arms over her chest and refused to hit him. Even if she had to bury her fists under her arms to keep them in place, she wasn't going to do what he asked.

Katsuro laughed. "I forgot! You were probably expecting scrolls or some other moldy, old thing—"

But she didn't laugh along with him, in fact she looked even angrier. He understood. He'd probably think it was a trap too if someone set him up like this.

"Nothing's going to happen," he reassured, opening his hands at his sides. "I want you to do this."

But she still didn't move. She wouldn't even look at him now.

He tried again. "I think you've been trained to be a good little ninja, staying in the lines and not thinking about how desperate everyone else is. How willing they are to kill you before you can kill them," he said. She wasn't leaving, at least, so he knew she was listening. He pressed that advantage.

"You have to size up your opponent accurately, make choices that will help you live longer. This isn't something you learn from a book," he said. She pursed her lips together, but he was undaunted.

"You were on the right track, using your medical skills to inflict hidden damage. But your mistake was not sizing up your victims, your 'patients,'" he said with a grin. "You should have continued to treat them as hostile threats, even more than before."

He rubbed a hand over his chin, thinking.

"You should have identified which one was going to come after you first — and stayed away from him — then picked off your easiest target," he said with a smile.

But her fierce expression suddenly slipped. The green glow around her knuckles flickered.

'This was the same strategy he used to single me out,' she thought, looking down at the ground.

Katsuro realized something he'd said must have gotten her down.

'Her face is almost an open book,' he thought with a sigh. Another area she'd need to control if she wanted to protect herself.

Watching her, eyes distant, shoulders softened, face partially-concealed by limp hanks of hair, she was a picture of dejection. He wanted to wipe it away.

He wanted to see that spark, that fire, the one that pushed her up the mountain and drove her to foil her captors. The same one that led her to whip her teammate, he thought with a small grin. He'd have to ask her about that later.

She seemed to flourish when the odds were stacked against her. He wondered if he could provoke her a little more into fighting.

"Yeah," he said looking at her challengingly. "I singled you out. I separated you from your group. You were clearly the weakest," he said, waving his hand grandly while he lied. "I bet none of this even helps! I bet you still couldn't land a punch on me!"

She dropped her fists at her sides, but didn't move. He slowly circled around her, kicking her foot as he passed, hoping he'd provoked her enough to really come at him. And this time put her heart into it.

Her cheeks were pink and her fists were tight, but she wasn't moving.

"I bet you turned to that medic business because you were afraid everyone would see you weren't cut out to be a ninja. That you were in over you're head," he said from behind her. She still wasn't taking the bait though. He had to do a more.

Leaning in close over her shoulder, he made a personal dig.

"It's a big, bad world out there." He reached a hand up to graze the tips of her hair, thinking he'd give her a clear shot just to get the ball rolling. He figured that once she got started, she wouldn't stop.

"Pretty little pink-haired girls should never leave their safe, little villages." He stayed close as he completed the circle, face next to hers, voice low and intimate. "Isn't that what your teammates think...um...Ino-chan?" It took him a moment to remember her name.

If she didn't want to fight him after this crap, he thought, then she must be made of stone.

A low guttural growl ripped from her throat as she lunged towards him, a fist going straight for his face. He drew back in a rush to avoid the blow, but she had another one to follow it up with.

'Good,' he thought, getting his bearings after a few more blasts.

Then he began in earnest, blocking her punches, trying to find openings as well. Anything less would be disrespectful.

* * *

They worked and worked that day and the next. Nearly to exhaustion. He was tired from blocking relentless blows, and she was tired from holding her chakra so tightly at her knuckles.

But Sakura felt good.

Sometimes she hated that mop of brown hair, those dancing brown eyes, forever taunting and encouraging her.

Other times, when she'd fire off a particularly swift punch, something that he wasn't expecting, she would see another side of him.

Her success was his as well.

She couldn't quite shake the concern that he would find some way to seek retribution, seeing as she and he were from opposing forces. But anytime she nearly clocked him with her fist, he'd always give her a little shout of encouragement. Never anger, never revenge.

She'd scan his face for a sign of some other more sinister plan, but all she could find was the happy crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

So she let go, and accepted his help at face value. Maybe he wanted to see her succeed after all. He seemed to be having a good time, and she couldn't deny she wasn't. Who wouldn't have a good time trying to knock the daylights out of someone your own age, she thought with a smile before winding up to deliver another blow.

He smiled back at her in response. Her color was high, and she looked like she was working hard, but having fun.

He was enjoying it too. Truly. What had begun as just a few defensive moves with the intention to help her keep herself alive was quickly turning into something more. Why stop at survival? She should be able to prevail over any enemy.

He backflipped neatly away from her oncoming attack. He had never known anything like this, never spent any time with someone just sparring for fun. Any fighting he had ever done was to survive, not to improve.

She didn't pursue him farther, instead letting him slip out of her reach. She put her hands on her knees and panted. He stopped for a much-needed break too.

It was alluring to think of her as someone equal with him, someone to train with, he thought. And he wanted to keep going.

"Hey, do you want to try it with chakra-enhanced kicks," he asked while they were catching their breath.

Her eyes were bright and sweaty spikes of hair clung to her neck. Her hand was clamped an ache in her side while she panted.

When she didn't answer right away, and Katsuro realized she may be tired or overwhelmed, or maybe just not as much like him as he wished she was. "Or are you too tired. I mean, we could stop, you know, if you don't want to keep going. That's fine too—"

She gulped a breath. "Yeah! Of course I want to keep going! Do _you_ want to keep going?"

He laughed at her, and she laughed too at her own enthusiasm. "Oh yeah! Bring it on!"

* * *

After a grueling day of chakra laden kicks, both returned to the little room, sweaty and exhausted.

But there was another burden weighing on Katsuro that night. Something about her battle skills troubled him. No matter how aggressive she was with her punches, he didn't know if she could really protect herself if the time came.

He knew she had training in saving lives. He wondered if she'd ever taken one.

"No," she said quietly, as she settled herself under her blanket for the night. "My sensei did, right in front of us, on a bridge. But I didn't. I did land a few punches there, though."

"Good," he said reflexively, but continued right on. "Do you think you could? Kill someone?"

"I guess...Yeah. I would if I had to," she said. But it sounded half-hearted, even to her own ears.

"If you had to..." he repeated her slowly, sitting down atop his own blanket. "And how long would it take you to figure that out? If you 'had to' or not?" His tone was somewhere between a question and a taunt. She wasn't sure how to respond.

"Would you know right away or would you need to size up your opponent in battle first," he asked her seriously.

She didn't want to answer that one. He wasn't taunting, but she was pretty sure her response would be the opposite of his.

But from the look on his face it was clear he'd already guessed her answer.

"Forget your village and your teammates. If you're standing in front of men like that," he pointed a finger straight up, to the men still lazing upstairs, "do you think they're going to give you even five seconds to look them over, size them up, come to some decision about who they are and what they want?"

He shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes off her face.

"They know who they are. They know what they want. And they are going to tear you apart." His tone chilled her to the core. "No one is coming to save you. You have to save yourself."

The silence pressed down on her. His words were dreadful. And true.

Katsuro shifted his foot against the blanket.

"Could you kill someone then?"

"Yes," she answered, but this time with a quiet gravity. He nodded.

She understood now. It was a harsh way of getting his point across, but if she were to ever run into any of those men upstairs someplace else, she should expect that they were going to try to kill her, and nothing less.

She frowned at another thought.

"But what about you? You're with them," she said, thumbing up to the floors upstairs. "So why are you different?"

He blinked a few times, thinking about it. He shrugged finally.

"Well, I guess I'm like you then," he said with a half-smile. "I don't want to kill someone if I don't have to, either."

He picked up a rounded pebble and turned it over and over in his hand, thinking. He looked back to her seriously, brown eyes seeking her out.

"But sometimes there isn't a choice. You can't just back away. You have to fight your way out, because _they_ want to take _you_ down."

She felt he was talking about both of them now. She needed to protect herself, and perhaps he was speaking from his own experience. Maybe he'd always faced people who wanted to 'take him down,' so he was self-protective all the time.

She pulled her blanket up with a grumble, not wanting to tell him that it was a terrible burden to carry. Thinking everyone in the world was out to get you.

He laughed at her. He understood her well enough now to know that she was turning away because she had a different opinion, or just plain didn't believe him.

"Just remember, if you get caught in a bad situation, assume the worst," he said, dropping the stone and crawling under the cover. "Do what you have to do to get out of it. Just survive."

"Words to live by. Treat everyone like they're going to kill you," she said sarcastically, turning on her side to face the wall.

"It's not all bad," he said, turning on his side to face her. "Sometimes people surprise you."

He retrieved the pebble from the floor and tossed it gently at her back. Never turning, she just chuckled and pulled a hand out from under the blanket to mockingly swat over her side at him.

He laughed and watched her back, thinking how nice this was. It was like seeing the dragonfly on the window ledge. This felt special…and fleeting. He wanted to hold onto this strange little harmony they had for as long as he could.

* * *

They sparred continuously, filling the days with training, evenings with talking.

Her balance and chakra control proved to be exceptional. He was by no means an expert, but since his life hung by how well he summed up his opponent, he knew she would be formidable in battle.

She still had some openings, but the one he most worried about now was her ability to deceive, to hide her reactions and intentions. He could read her so easily. And that could get her killed.

The kunoichi swung a fist at his face, followed by a roundhouse kick. Both chakra laden, both deadly.

Heaving a breath and on the defensive, Katsuro took a step back and fired off a question.

"The men upstairs, they caught you unaware, but even then you should have been able to take them. Your fear got the upper hand," he said. He let her come in a little closer, trying to distract her, continuing to question her all the while. "So when you protected those children, were you afraid or were you faking it there?"

She thought a moment about an answer, losing her pace. Katsuro took advantage of the weakness and swung a leg out to sweep her off her feet.

She hopped with a squeak, realizing his intention, and came after him with vigor. She understood, he wanted her to fight and talk.

"No. Not like you mean," she said through gritted teeth. She swung again, trying to keep him from getting the upper hand. "I knew what I had to do. I was afraid for them, but not for me."

A green glow streaked through the air in front of him. He smiled, dodging her punch. She was so different, he thought again. Her answers never ceased to surprise him.

"Good," he said, looking for an opening when she retracted. He found it, connecting his fist with her rib cage. "But it was still a stupid thing to do," he added quickly.

It wasn't enough to knock the wind out of her, but they both knew he'd found a weak spot. An assailant could have killed her with that opening. She regrouped in silence, watching him move into a defensive stance, and mulled over what the difference was in her fear of the men, and her distinct lack of fear at the merchant's cart.

She got ready to charge him again, kicked back a foot for more stability and pulsed the chakra at her fists. She had excellent control now and knew how to use it. The chakra at her knuckles was as compact and brilliant as glowing jade rings. She advanced in a blur.

"I had a reason to do it, something to protect. They were relying on me. So I couldn't fail. That's the difference between fighting on the road and fighting back upstairs," she said, panting. She had moved fast, but not fast enough to catch him. She paused to regroup at what she thought was a safe distance away.

Katsuro just shrugged, wiping the sweat from his top lip with the back of his hand before fixing a predatory gaze on the kunoichi.

"Pretty words," he said, deepening his stance, getting ready to pounce, "but you'll end up getting killed just the same."

It was his turn to come after her, and he was relentless. He punched and kicked until she was scooting backwards across the dusty floor, hardly able to get one foot down before she had to quickstep off it again in defense.

In between punches he peppered her with questions.

"And what do you do if you are outmatched completely? Nothing to protect? In over your head?"

She looked at him with big green eyes, processing what he'd said. She knew he was going to get her, there was nothing she could do to stop it, but she had found a pattern to his movements. If she let him hit her she could hurt him too. That would at least level the playing field.

"What do you do," she panted, moving her foot back in retreat and hoping he would continue his pattern. He did.

"You fake it," he ground out as he barreled into her ribcage again with his fist. But he was open too. Sakura took advantage of the moment to smash a chakra-laden heel down onto his foot.

He howled at the unexpected shot of pain while the kunoichi really did get the wind knocked out of her. Both fell away from each other and landed in the dust, cradling their injured spots, heaving ragged breaths.

"Fake it?" she gasped, hugging her bruised ribs. The pain was intense, but it made her feel moderately better knowing he was injured too.

"Damn," he said, pulling his knee up to his chest and clutching his foot, rocking slightly on his back. "Never show fear," he said. His voice was strained. "It's the worst enemy you'll ever have."

She nodded her head against the dusty floor. "Fake it," she repeated quietly. She understood.

"You really got me. I can't believe it," he croaked. "You did good," he breathed out deeply. "Let's take a break."

She laughed lightly, the rapid breath making her sides feel like they were going to split. But it was a good pain.


	9. Struggles and Triumphs, Part 2

Swirling her chopsticks around the edge of her bowl, Sakura mulled the few things she knew about the boy. There wasn't much. Grains of rice tumbled one at a time to the meager pile at the bottom of the dish. But how did he wind up with this bunch, she wondered again, tapping the sticks together lightly.

"So, you never lived in a village," she began, thinking aloud. "Did you have any friends your age then, growing up?"

He just looked at her, his face a mix of skepticism and suspicion. It was the look that reminded her she was the prisoner here.

She shrugged, and went back to her meal.

"And what about _your_ friends," he said, cutting his eyes at her over his bowl, thinking they must not be very good friends if they could abandon her so easily. He was sure he wouldn't like them for that reason alone.

She didn't catch the mean intent of what he'd said, instead taking his words seriously, chewing and thinking over what he'd asked. So she didn't see the drop in his expression, the wrinkle in his brow as he realized, with a little shame, that he had thought the worst of her. Maybe she wasn't pushing for information, maybe she just wanted to talk.

Sakura tipped her head and shrugged again.

"I think maybe it's easier if you're not a ninja," she said, She was looking at her food, but her thoughts were obviously miles away from that little room.

Katsuro nearly dropped his bowl. She may as well have punched him. His surprise at her candid assertion, that she would have a problem making friends, could barely be concealed. He thought she surely would have to beat them off with a stick.

Gulping down the last bite of food, Katsuro set his dish aside and leaned back against the wall, watching her quietly. He couldn't help it, he wanted to know more. Always.

"Well what about your team? Why aren't you friends?" he said. But she flicked suspicious eyes back at him. He backed off, as well. He wanted to know, not because of his mission, but because he was curious about the other little details of her life.

He cleared his throat.

"Well, what about girls?" he asked, thinking that in towns and outposts he'd only ever seen girls huddled in groups, talking or going somewhere, and she seemed like the one that would be right in the middle. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could reel them back in. The kunoichi's eyes went wide.

"What?" she said in dismay.

"You know, like you," he said, stumbling over his words. "Don't you have any girlfriends?" He smacked his hand over his eyes. "I mean, friends that are girls."

He could hear her soft laughter and pulled his hand back sheepishly. His embarrassment broke the ice.

"I do have friends who are girls. And friends who are boys," she said with a smile, letting his fumble slide. "But it's just not that easy."

He frowned at her. "Why not?" He simply couldn't believe it.

"Because, everyone from my class has moved on with their teams, bonded," she rolled her eyes, "and my group's not like that," she said quietly. He didn't say anything, just hoped she would continue.

"My 'best friend,'" she said, but it was in such a way that Katsuro understood it really wasn't the case.

"In—" she coughed quickly, trying to cover up her slip of Ino's name, the one she'd said was her own. "Sheee has long blonde hair."

Katsuro looked at her askance. Sakura hurried to gloss it over.

"We had the same crush in school, and she was paired with another team while I was paired with—" she stopped, not even wanting to admit that she thought about Sasuke differently at one time. "Well, she got the better end of the deal. Her team is great, mine is..." She didn't want to finish that thought either.

"But she's never gotten over it?" Katsuro filled in for her. Sakura nodded. They both lapsed into thoughtful silence.

"Is she stronger than you?" he asked finally. The kunoichi burst out laughing, green eyes dancing above the slim fingers that covered her mouth. He just grinned back.

"You mean, could I take her? In a fight?" she said, chuckling. Katsuro nodded, still smiling broadly.

"I don't know," she said, seriously thinking about it, but still smiling. "Maybe. After all this," she shot him another brief grin. "But fighting's not her strong suit. Her clan's specialty is mind control—"

"Like the Uchiha?" he interrupted.

"No, a little different," she answered.

Sakura spent the rest of that evening telling him about the different clans, and their different skills. It was nothing that was not already widely known beyond their borders — besides she didn't know anyone's secrets to keep or share — so she felt confident in talking about it. She also made sure not to reveal anyone's names or memorable features, just to be safe. She'd let it slip about Ino's hair, when she was scrambling to cover up her own gaffe, but there were lots of blonde-haired girls around.

Katsuro's genuine interest kept her going. He laughed a little at the "dog boy" clan as he called it, but was thoroughly grossed out by her description of "bug boy." He had assigned names to all her friends to keep them straight.

The firelight was flickering low when he asked about those closer to her.

"So I know you're one teammate is from a clan, what about the other one?" He hoped that by not mentioning her teammate, the Uchiha, his target and the only reason she was here, she would continue talking.

"The other one? He was an orphan who was raised to be a shinobi. He just follows orders," she said.

"A robot, then?" Katsuro said with a small smile.

Sakura nodded back, smiling. A robot. Yes, she thought, that was a fitting name for Sai.

"What about you?" Katsuro pushed on quietly. "Are you from a clan? You have a...thing," he said, wiggling fingers at her back.

She laughed. "A symbol? Yeah, I suppose I do. It's just a family symbol though. I'm not from a powerful clan like—" she stopped herself from saying Sasuke's name this time. "There's no great power or secret skill passed down through generations. In fact, I'm the first ninja in my family."

"Wow," Katsuro said, not sure how to respond. Maybe she was pushed into this life, he thought. Strategizing parents from shinobi village, it wasn't hard to imagine.

"Yeah," she said slowly, responding to his flat tone of voice.

"And your parents," he said questioningly, "they must be so proud." He tried but couldn't keep the sarcastic bite out of his voice. She didn't notice it though. An unreadable expression played out across her face.

"They don't understand it, and they don't understand why I want to do it. We don't talk too much about it," she said half-heartedly, leaning her head back against the wall.

"They're civilians, and they think that life should be good enough for me. But I've always felt like I could do more for my village than just tend a store or file away paperwork somewhere," she said. But her words were hollow. She sighed deeply and sat forward. "Sometimes I wonder if they're right, and I'm wrong."

Sakura shook her head of the thoughts. Gathering up her bowl, the kunoichi stood and held out her hand expectantly for his dish. He gave it to her without a word. She set the bowls down in a corner and retrieved their blanket rolls, dropping one into his lap as she passed.

Katsuro watched her quietly, waiting for her to say something more, wondering if he should instead. But if she was expecting small talk from him, she didn't seem to notice his silence.

"It's not their fault, they mean well," she said finally. Blanket smoothed against the floor, she folded herself between the layers and turned to face the wall.

"I don't want to think about it anymore tonight, okay?" she said.

"Okay," he answered, frowning into the sudden stillness of the room.

Something had troubled her, but he couldn't tell whether it was her parents' disapproval or her own self-doubt.

Katsuro unfurled his own blanket. He simply had no kind words to offer, but he could help in other ways.

"Tomorrow," he said, clearing his throat, "I can show you some more moves, if you'd like. I think they'd work well with your chakra control. Really help you take down your opponent."

"Okay," she breathed out dispiritedly.

Katsuro stretched back on top of his blanket, clasped his hands under his head and stared unseeing at the wood boards that covered the ceiling.

He knew nothing of friends or parents, village life or family obligations. Those were all as distant and unfathomable to him as the stars in the sky. But she had come into much closer view.

For any of them to even doubt her, he thought with a shake of his head, well then, they must not know her very well. She was more ninja than almost anyone he'd met.

* * *

Every morning and evening Katsuro hauled water to the men upstairs. They had arrived at a forced truce the first day. He brought the water up and took the food he needed. He even swiped a second blanket for himself. They didn't bother him, nor did they dare descend downstairs.

The chore also gave him a little time each day to stop by the paneled room. He had become very familiar with the paintings. Even so, it always seemed like there was something new to find.

He inspected the scenes, studied the faces, wondered about the strange sage. He also spent a lot of time thinking about the medic-nin's descriptions of her home, her friends. The stories and the painting were intertwining in his mind.

He saw her village as perpetually green, its motley cast forever playing out their happy lives. Safe and untouched by the horrors beyond their walls. The idea sometimes enthralled, sometimes enraged him.

Yet carrying over it all was the kunoichi's lilting voice. It echoed in his mind as he looked at the paintings. It lingered in the warm air as he drifted off to sleep. It wove the fabric of his dreams together.

An image caught his eye and he leaned in closer, admiring the flowing black hair, perfectly rouged lips and delicately downcast eyes of a woman in the painting. She was posed under a flowering tree, choosing a piece of fruit. It was all contrived, and all so different from the one who'd opened his eyes to this other world. From _her_.

Somewhere below him, she was there right now. Not frozen in spring tableau. She was all summer sun. Her easy smiles and that hair. He was almost ashamed to think about it, that when he'd seen her his immediate thought was that the pink hair would make her an easy target. Now, when he thought about her, it fit her perfectly. Unrepentant and open. She was different.

He left the painted woman behind and scanned the panels for something that seemed more like the girl he'd come to know. Finally, he found something that captured her a little better, but surprisingly, there was nothing feminine about it.

A group of children were laughing beside a river. Leaves hung in the air, water flowed unhindered, the children circled each other in some unknown game. Their chubby hands were clasped, and the green grass curled around their feet. Fine brushstrokes became radiant smiles on their round faces.

He couldn't help but smile back. Yes, that was her, he thought. There was something in the easy freedom, the careless happiness of the children that resonated with his idea of her. This would be her part to play on the stage of the leaf-green village.

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

And here he was, watching it from the outside. Again.

If she was this — this glorious, sunlit moment — then he knew which part he was. Katsuro flicked a glance down to the dimly lit corner where he knew the last panel hung. Its angry scene waiting there, even in the darkness. The hero and the demon, poised for battle. Katsuro frowned, his mood darkening. He knew which part of that equation he was.

A scuffing at the door startled him.

"Hey, there you are," the kunoichi said, panting a little. She crossed the room swiftly. "I thought I might find you here. What are you looking at?"

"Just some of the pictures," Katsuro said, still a little discomposed. He felt as if he'd revealed something, although he knew he had not spoken a word. "Which one do you like?" he rejoined quickly to cover his unease.

She stepped forward for a closer look at the children playing.

"How sweet," she said, then slowly walked back up the line of panels.

"What about her?" he said as they passed the woman beneath the tree. He watched her reaction from under half-closed eyes.

"Oh, she's lovely isn't she. Beautiful hair. Looks like a princess," the kunoichi said, her smiling green eyes darting around the image. "But I think I like this little part best," she said, pointing to a scene he'd not noticed before.

They walked the length of the wall till they were at the beginning. A grand mountain scene was painted down the entire first panel. At the top, a few snow-capped mountains poked out of a line of cottony mist. Below the mist, the slopes raced down nearly vertical, dotted here and there with red-leafed maple trees and illuminated by long shafts of sunlight. At the foot of the great mountains, hillocks covered in finely-lined green grass rolled away, forming the green ground of the village and scenery in the panels beyond.

A frothing waterfall broke the placid scene, cutting a straight line through the mountains and terminating at a knee of rocks that jutted out into the churning waters. A lone blossoming cherry tree clung to the rock, with a small patch of grass its only companion.

"There," she said, pointing at the knoll with a satisfied smile. She turned back to wait for his reaction.

It was pretty enough, he thought, but he wasn't impressed. He feigned interest for her sake, and continued to study the forgettable image.

But no sooner had he decided there was nothing interesting in the panel, did he discover that the the tree and its rocky home did have some redeeming qualities.

While the waterfall fell in white streaks behind the rock, the river swirled around the front in deep blue circles. There the tree arched magnificently out over the water, its branches, studded with pink blossoms, just barely brushed the whirlpool.

A faint ray of light streaked down through the mist to gild the little scene.

Katsuro plunked his hands on his hips in frustration. He had to admit, the more he looked, the more he saw.

What he had taken to be a white frothing of the river was actually petals, so finely rendered he almost missed it. Winding away from the tree, the placid blue river was dotted pink and white. Even the wispy grass that grew at the banks and bent with the flow of the current had petals caught in their long tendrils.

The river rolled on into the next panel, wide and smooth through the thick green grass. It ducked out of sight under a trim little bridge, then continued on toward the village.

"Eh," he said shrugging a shoulder, irritated that she liked the picturesque spot over all the others. She must have understood that he didn't see what she did.

"It represents the changing seasons, look," Sakura pointed to the clear anomaly of snow, autumn leaves and blossoms in such close proximity.

"Well, where's summer?" he asked with a frown.

"Oh, summer's all the rest of it," she said dismissively. He's snorted at that.

"It's pretty, I guess," he said, still a little disappointed that he couldn't pin her down to an image in the village.

"It's more than that though. Look closer," she said, tugging him forward by his arm. "So, if this whole painting is a story about a sage's journey, then this is the beginning. The river probably represents the chakra that he's teaching about, flowing through everything." Her fingers trailed along with the water, then returned to the rocky knoll. "And if it does, then this spot right here is where it springs from, literally. It transcends the seasons, it's untouched by time."

She turned back to him, hand on her hip, a satisfied grin on her face.

Katsuro blinked, opened his mouth to disagree, then snapped it shut again with a frown. After comparing it with the rest of the panels, he realized she was probably right.

Where the other images were painted with bright colors and swift brushstrokes, this little area was masterfully rendered in a harmony of colors, exquisitely detailed down to the smallest petals. The scene was very special indeed.

He had been wrong. He had been looking for her in the village. She wasn't there.

Studying the tableaus, Katsuro had indulged in dissecting and dismissing the cast of characters, wrapped up in their own lives. He had already decided which part he belonged too, and he wanted to box her up with the rest of the village. But she slipped out of those plans as well.

"So which part do you like?" she said lightly, oblivious to his discontent.

He cleared his throat. He truly had not thought about what he liked, only what he was obligated to. Her question surprised him. If he had a choice, then which would he choose?

He knew the answer, he thought, puffing out a breath. He was beginning to see a pattern here.

"That part, too," he begrudgingly acknowledged, jerking his hand toward the scene. "You know, the one with the tree. The water."

She just smiled in response.

Katsuro glanced back down the panels at the vivid scenes, each with their own little story to tell, then returned to the panel in front of him. He recognized now what she had seen from the start. This was the beginning, the source. Where the blossoms met the swirling water was where all the rest of it sprang from.

He had just leaned in close to see if the branches actually touched the water itself, when a chakra-laden punch in the arm nearly knocked him over.

"Ow," he said, rubbing his arm, looking at her laughing face for an explanation.

"Come on," she said, eyes glittering. "You promised you'd show me some new stuff today!"

It brought him back to the present, shook him of his thoughts. They were neither of them were characters in an ancient painting.

He wasn't locked in a battle, chained to a fate he could never escape.

She wasn't a child playing games from which he was horribly excluded.

They were, right now, safe from everything, tucked away in a forgotten temple on the edge of a mountain. It reminded him forcibly of that grassy patch beneath the protective canopy of the cherry tree.

Helping her to defend herself made him feel good, worthwhile. And in return, though she didn't know it, she gave him the gift of treating him as if nothing were wrong. Seeing it through her eyes, he was just another kid trying to survive. The world was still full of beauty and possibility, and happy endings. Even against hopeless odds.

If he had been wrong about her, then maybe he wasn't tied to that last panel, either. Maybe there was a beautiful spot, protected and unspoiled, even for him.

Pink hair, he thought again as he looked at her quizzical face. It's perfect.

"Are you ok?" she said, tipping her head with a smile. Her hair swung softly away from her neck.

"I'm good," he said, exhaling deeply. He smiled back. "I'm great. Let's go. I've been looking forward to this too."

They turned together and left the floor, sending more flecks of dust sparkling into the air in their wake.

* * *

Sakura knew what she was doing this time.

Her movements were sure, her fists were tight. She knew she had him.

Pushing him into a defensive position with a small kick, Sakura moved her arms as if to release a jab to his midsection. But it was only a ruse. She shifted her weight and shot a chakra-encased hand straight up into his chin, delivering a punishing uppercut. Just like he'd taught her.

He toppled backwards onto the floor, eyes wide, hands splayed out behind him.

This felt so good, she thought, cracking her knuckles.

"Ready for another?" she said. She could go all day like this, but she was pretty sure he couldn't. He pushed the mop of brown curls away from his eyes.

"No," he said, laughing as she pulled him back up to standing. His smiles and laughter made her feel better about the pummeling he was taking from her.

'No harm done,' she thought. He seemed to be just as pleased as she was about her success. But she couldn't quite forget that he was her warden.

For what seemed like the thousandth time, she tried to ignore her tenuous situation and just focus on his kindness. He had given her more encouragement in the past week than she'd gotten from her team in a year. In fact, if he wasn't the one who had abducted her, she would have to admit he was more of a friend to her than anyone in her squad.

Sakura took the orange he offered and sat down beside him under the window in their sparring room. Knees propped up, shoulders almost touching, they sat in companionable silence and ate their fruit.

If there was another agenda there, she thought again, a darker reason to why he was assisting her, she simply couldn't find it.

And though he would offer no clues to his background, and she, stupidly, had revealed so much about herself, he didn't appear to be gathering information about her. It almost seemed as if he was lonely. As if he liked hearing about the foibles of her friends, her team, her life. She thought it was dreadful, but she supposed it would sound good if those men upstairs were your only companions. Which turned her thoughts back to the puzzle of why he was with them. She wished she knew just a little bit more about him.

Katsuro cleared his throat, startling her, and launched into a dialogue as if they had already been speaking.

"There's nothing else you should be doing," he said seriously, eyes fixed on some distant point in the room. Sakura turned to look at him, but he continued on, never moving his gaze.

"You protected those kids. You weren't afraid," he said firmly. "Not many people would do that, would go that far."

Sakura looked at her hands. She had become accustomed to his way of asking her things to prove a point. She would answer, only to find a bitter opinion or sarcastic dig. And so far, most of his points were painful. But there was something different in his tone of voice this time.

"I think you are doing the right thing, being a ninja and all. And if you enjoy being a medic, and you're good at it, you should do it, too," he said firmly. "And I wouldn't care about what anyone else thinks."

She turned quickly to peer back into his face, her surprise evident at his serious tone. But he was in earnest.

Katsuro was offering his support. Not just because it was convenient to him, but because he thought she needed to hear it.

"Thanks," she said softly, studying his profile.

There had always been lots of approval heaped around, but never directly. She'd often hear a 'good job' or 'great work' in class, but when she became part of a team, even those anonymous praises dried up. And there was never, ever any mention of her missions or work at home.

Here, this boy, this _rogue_ , is the one to tell her not to give up on the decision she'd wrapped her life around.

Katsuro was really tough. And if he thought that she was good enough, then...well, that meant something to her.

"Thanks a lot," she said.

He cut her a sideways glance and gave a brief, embarrassed smile. But she grinned widely back. His eyes were a dull brown, that couldn't be helped, but when he smiled there was something very expressive and kind in the way they crinkled at the corners. She could see it now.

* * *

Though she had proved herself in their mock battle, landing quite a few punches on him over the course of the afternoon, Katsuro was still working out ways she could use her skill to her advantage.

"So, if I were you," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as they padded back up the stairs, "then I would try every move possible that can have chakra channeled into it. Punching, kicking, anything. If you can pound your chakra into it, then do it. That's your strength."

She nodded in honest agreement, letting her hand drag over the wall as she climbed. Only the pattering of crumbling sand on the stone steps broke the early evening stillness. Neither seemed to take notice, though.

It was clear to both of them that this training had gone far beyond self-defense moves. He was preparing her for anything she might face, and thugs were at the bottom of the list.

'She's a Leaf ninja,' he thought. 'More than likely she's going to be fighting off other shinobi more than common criminals—'

"You're good at this, you know," she called up to him, interrupting his thoughts. "Helping other people."

He smiled but didn't turn back to her, instead occupying himself with pushing the door open to their floor. They silently crossed the large, dark hall.

She had said little niceties before, and most he dismissed as just that. But sometimes she said things so easily that they arrested him for a moment.

He was reminded of her throwing open that shutter and breathing life into the good things hidden in the darkness, naming them for him to hold onto.

Just like the panels, her kind words were his now, never to be forgotten. He pushed the door open to the little room, then held it back for her to pass.

"Do you help train other people in your...group?" she said as she walked by. They never spoke about his group, or her team, and she mentioned it haltingly.

"No," he said with a little laugh. She grabbed an orange and sat down on the window ledge.

"So, if you didn't go to an academy, how were you trained?" Her voice was soft, and there was no hint of pressure, but still...

He had been reaching for an orange when her heard her question. His instincts always leaned toward self-protective. Though it sounded innocent, and he thought enough of her now not to suspect her every move, there was still a broad gap between them. He stood without the orange as she started to speak again.

"We were trained in teams. Although mine's not anything like any of the others. I might as well be alone," her voice thinned at the admission. But after a moment she rejoined, "so what about you, did you have a team or was it just a sensei."

He understood. She had offered a bit of information about herself in return for something from him. A trade.

It went against everything — _everything_ — he'd been trained for. And he'd been very careful so far, not to reveal anything that could trace him to his past. He opened the door, curling his hand around the edge. Answering her was not an option, he told himself.

But still he did not move.

True, she was from Konoha, he thought. But she was so much different than he'd ever expected anyone from that wretched place to be. Maybe this didn't have to be so hard. Maybe she just wanted to know more about him, the same way he always wanted to know more about her.

He cleared his throat.

"I had none of that," he said emotionlessly. "I was taught what I needed to survive. I had to learn quickly and put it to use. There were no schools, no teammates, no second chances."

He stepped over the threshold, deciding to get an early start on his nightly water run. The little room seemed too confining at the moment.

"Thank you, then," he heard her call out. He paused, hand on the metal handle, listening. "For this. For treating me differently. You have a great deal of kindness." He didn't say anything but closed the door.

This time, he couldn't see what she did.

A dull ache tightened like a band around his chest. It was something unknown to him, something like regret. The feeling stayed with him as he crossed the empty hall. He couldn't seem to shake it.

There was a shadow to the good things she'd said. He wasn't kind, no matter how nice he was to her. He put her in this situation.

If he were really kind, he thought, he would have chosen the other teammate.

Katsuro dragged a hand over his forehead, closing his eyes for a moment. How could he have known she would be so, so—

A hawk's cry pierced the air high above. Katsuro snapped his head up, senses on high alert, listening hard at the edge of the stairwell.

The plaintive sound whistled over the crumbling stone walls and echoed relentlessly through the deserted rooms.

Katsuro knew what it meant: Tomorrow, he'd learn of their fate.


	10. Closed Doors

Though he had hoped to see a scroll in the morning, there was nothing for him when he brought up the water. He would just have to wait. So Katsuro slowly returned down the winding stairwell with an armload of fruit…and no answers.

He knew this would end and they would have to leave. Then why did he feel so bad about it?

Not paying attention, his heel rolled off a crumbling step. Katsuro flailed for a moment, trying to catch himself and not drop all the food. But one piece of fruit dislodged itself, and he could do nothing but watch the orange bounce down the stairs and out of sight around the curve of the wall.

He was already frustrated, but loosing an orange on the way down — a noticeable piece of food which could be traced, which he'd have to find, which could be _anywhere_ in the entire temple by now — further sunk his mood.

Crossing the main hall of their floor, he thought about his next obstacle: the kunoichi. She would probably want to spar, but he simply couldn't bring himself to do it.

What he really wanted to do was sit down and sharpen every weapon he'd ever owned. The end result always made him feel better: gleaming kunai and shurikens, plus the sense that nothing could touch him. But he remembered he'd already done that back at camp.

He balanced the rest of the food precariously in his folded elbows and was just toeing the door back, when it burst open, knocking his arm and sending the fruit tumbling into the little room.

"Oh! Sorry!" the med-nin said brightly and began to pick up the rolling fruit.

He said nothing, only corralled the oranges and apples by kicking them to the corner haphazardly.

"So, do you want to—" she began, but he stopped her.

"I don't really feel like it today," he said quietly.

She stood up, still holding an errant orange, looking at his back.

"Okay," she said slowly. "Is everything alright?"

Katsuro ignored her personal question.

"Are we out of water?" he asked, answering himself with a single glance to the empty bucket. "I'll go get some more."

"I'll go with you," she said with forced lightness, and followed him out.

He just shrugged, and they walked silently down through the floors.

Sakura said nothing the whole way, but watched his back warily. Either he felt bad or something had happened. Or both. She had seen his temper flare before, and it had been in response to the men in his camp.

Perhaps something had happened upstairs to set him off. Then again, she told herself, maybe it was nothing.

They sat down, backs against the stone well, knees propped up, and took turns sipping water from the bucket between them as they had done nearly every day for a week now.

But Sakura could tell something was different. He was so quiet, she might as well have been there by herself.

So the kunoichi filled in the silence with idle chatter, describing a land she'd visited on a mission once, a country on the edge of a vast ocean. She asked where he had been, hoping the neutral topic would pull him out of his taciturn mood, but he still said nothing. She continued on, realizing too late she'd hardly traveled anywhere in the world. Sakura was nearly out of things to talk about when he finally broke his silence.

"I've never been to the same place twice," he said quietly, looking out through the tall arches. She turned to study his face. There was no trace of his characteristic happiness.

"Not the camps, but other towns, villages. We stay for a while, come and go. But when we leave, we never come back," he said. Sakura noted there was a finality to his words she hadn't heard before.

"And really, who would want to. It is much more interesting to see new places," he finished, lips in a thin line.

"Wouldn't you want to go back to someplace where people knew you?" she said. She noticed that he was speaking, but never looking at her. Sakura bit her lip. Something was definitely wrong.

"No. I've never thought about it. It's never mattered to me," he said. "I suppose when you've lived within walls your whole life, it's hard being free."

Sakura would have thought it was a joke if she had not caught the cut of his eyes, the mean smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"Running all the time doesn't seem free to me," she said indignantly, but immediately regretted it. Whatever was troubling him, it wouldn't do any good to anger him more. Maybe if she stuck to topics he'd found interesting before, then he would open up. "I would miss my friends, my favorite places..."

"Yes, I've heard all about them," he quipped. "And they sound nice, but there are lots of nice places in the world." He swept his arm toward the arches.

Her gaze followed his motion. It was lovely, she thought, but being held prisoner here made all the difference in their points of view.

Sakura cleared her throat, feeling the need to explain herself. "I mean, I would miss my village and my parents—"

"Well that's where we are different," he cut her off, his tone turning icy.

Katsuro stood swiftly and snapped up the bucket, sloshing its contents over the edges.

He took a step over a large crack in the floor, then stopped. Sakura just watched his back and waited. The tap-tapping of water from the bottom of the bucket echoed around the stone room.

"I never look back. Ever," he said, his voice low and angry. "You seem to never look ahead, do you. Or around, for that matter. Even now, still looking back. See anyone back there? No, they're not coming for you." He turned his head toward her, but he didn't meet her eyes. "I don't have a high opinion of your village. They have thrown you away. You shouldn't look back either."

Hoisting up the bucket, Katsuro took to the stairs and was gone. The gravelly footsteps and pattering water faded into silence.

Unable to say a word, Sakura simply watched him leave, eyes watering. Each one of his cruel remarks was like a slap in the face.

She hugged her knees to her chest and squeezed her eyes tight against this awful world she had been dropped into. What was she thinking. He was an enemy, she was a prisoner. He wasn't her friend.

Dropping her forehead to her knees, she didn't try to stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks, wetting her kneecaps. She ran through every scenario in her head, but none ended with a positive outcome. She was alone in this.

Sakura sat at the base of the well, clutching her legs, head buried from the world, until she was stiff. When she finally looked up, a few startled birds flew from their perches. They had mistaken her for part of the scenery.

Blinking at the light, she wished she were one of those birds. They could just fly out of this room and away from it all.

Sakura gingerly stood and followed their path to the window, looking out at the green escarpment. Resting her hand on a moss-covered windowsill, it was easy to think that she could just hop over those rocks down the mountain. But she knew it was a cliff face underneath, and that the soft moss was as slippery as ice. It was a prison with no walls.

She wondered just how far she could get before the mountain dropped away. Rocking onto the balls of her feet, she leaned out over the ledge. The view was dizzying. She didn't know how the temple stayed on the mountainside.

Sakura tipped back inside the window, grabbed a nearby stone off the floor and tossed it down the crag. Lifting a foot and balancing a hand on the flat ledge, she bent her hips to lean even farther out and track its progress. It bounced down the boulders, once, twice, then disappeared over the edge. If that had been a body — _her_ body — then her fate would have been grim.

A small shuffling noise at the doorway drew her attention. Returning both feet to the ground, Sakura turned cautiously.

It was Katsuro. She wasn't sure how long he had been standing there, but his mood appeared even stormier than before. He just watched her, frowning, a scroll clutched tightly in his hand.

Sakura didn't know what to make of any of his behavior today, so she just waited for him.

"Our time is up," he said darkly. "We leave in the morning."

He turned on his heel and climbed back up the steps, not even waiting for the information to sink in.

Sakura was left blinking at the empty doorway. She slowly turned back, unseeing, to the window. A knot of dread twisting her insides.

What she had feared most was upon her.

Sakura stood, unmoving, unable to decide what to do. Throw herself out the window? Or try to escape on the way down? Should she go now or should she wait? Why, _why_ didn't anyone from Konoha come?

Fear and doubt glued her to the ground. Which death would she choose?

From the arched window, Sakura watched the world fall away from her. The sun sank lower, despair closed in. But no amount of tears could stop time from slipping by.

Birds took to wing, glistening black in the golden afternoon light, flitting and darting and skimming insects out of the breeze. Still, she did not stir from that spot.

The sun burned orange in the sky before it guttered out completely, and finally in the blue-grey of early evening, exhaustion began to chip away at her immobilizing fear. Sakura found she no longer want to stare out of the wretched window. In fact she never wanted to see it again. She just wanted to lie down and forget this had ever happened. More than anything, she just wanted to give up.

Sakura scuffed numbly back up the steps. Crossing the main hall in darkness, she aimed herself for the dimly lit doorway on the other side. She pushed the old door open. Grey light permeated the little room, pooling darkly in the corners, but the room was empty.

Wherever Katsuro had disappeared to, he had not been back in a long time. There was no fire, but his pack was propped against the wall ready for travel, a blanket was rolled tightly at the bottom of it.

Her own blanket lay untouched below the window, in the same spot she had woken up from. The morning, with all its sunlit possibility, seemed so far away from now. She exhaled raggedly, pulled the cover back, slid beneath and pulled it over her head, feeling utterly defeated.

A few floors up, Katsuro shifted his feet on the silty tiles. He had long ago stopped caring about the dirty floor, and laid flat on his back with his knees propped up. He was sure his hair was full of dust. In the darkness it wouldn't matter though. Nothing would.

He had been tossing an orange over his chest, from one hand to the other, but it was getting harder and harder to see it in the evening light.

After he left the well room, Katsuro occupied himself by packing and repacking his things. A midday trip upstairs yielded the scroll that had set him on pins and needles since the evening before.

He searched through some areas where he thought he would find her, realizing belatedly that she must not have come up from the well room. He had stormed off and left her there, not considering what she would do next. He descended the stairs slowly, ignoring the pangs of guilt.

But all his uneasy feelings burst into a ridiculous anger when he saw her, leaning out over the window ledge. Looking for something. Or _someone_.

'Was she watching for them, even now,' he raged inwardly.

He wanted to yell at her, shake the scroll in her face, prove her wrong. Tell her this is what her village does to people and demand to know why couldn't she see it. But he didn't.

Instead he delivered his message, then left her there.

Tasking himself with finding the stray orange, Katsuro set about scouring the temple, rummaging through nearly every forsaken place off the edge of the stairwell. About halfway through the floors he finally found it, wedged just out of sight between a broken door and its frame.

Pushing the door open, Katsuro hoped to find something new to distract him, but there was only dust and grey walls. However, the forgotten silence of this abandoned room soothed his wretched mood.

Katsuro heaved a sigh and flopped down on the floor. Rolling his head to the side, he let his gaze travel over the dirt and rocks, past the broken branches and lost feathers, to where he knew the floor shattered and fell away.

He closed his eyes on the picture made by the broken wall, the gently swaying tree limbs and blue sky. They were complicit in the lies he'd told himself: That this could go on forever. That he didn't have to leave and turn her over to Itachi. That it wasn't his fault.

Feeling around beside him, he grabbed up the orange and threw it back and forth over his chest. Gently chucking it from hand to hand, his mind ran through futile arguments as the hours ticked away.

Afternoon finally burned itself out, yet Katsuro still couldn't shake the hollow feeling from the night before. In fact it had grown. And now, what he realized must be regret gnawed at him. It made him want impossible things.

He wished she had never left her village walls. Then he'd have never seen her, and she'd be safe.

He wished her team had come for her. Then he'd be free from these awful feelings.

Unbidden, memories of the past few days flashed through his mind. Would he really give those up, then? Selfishly, he knew the answer was no.

But it left him stranded. Trapped between his obligations to his group and some mother-hen feelings for a girl too stubborn to stay out of trouble.

That village had caught him again. All because of her.

Katsuro tossed the orange back to his other hand, but this time in the darkness he missed. It hit the stones and rolled to the edge of the floor where the wall had broken away. He turned on his side to watch it roll off into oblivion, no longer caring what happened to it, but the orange stopped just shy of the edge. Dusting a hand and propping it up under his temple, Katsuro looked out across the blue-black mountainside.

He tried to summon the successes of the past few days. Her easy smiles and triumphant expressions. The feeling that he'd made a difference. He knew it had warmed him to his core then.

But those shining moments were out of reach for him now. Probably for her too. Somewhere, right now, she was in the building feeling...well, he didn't know how she would be feeling. But after his angry outburst then delivering their marching orders, she certainly had not sought him out. And that was hours and hours ago. He didn't expect her to, but he still couldn't quell the half-hope that fluttered up when he heard the occasional noise.

Even that made him mad. That he'd become so accustomed to her presence that he listened for her soft footfalls.

How was he supposed to just hand her over to Itachi and walk away now?

'Dammit,' he growled, standing. Katsuro went to the window opening beside the stairwell. Reaching an arm outside, he blindly grasped along the wall beyond the window. When his fingers curled around a woody vine, he gave a hard tug. He was rewarded with a satisfying snap.

Pulling a segment of broken vine through the window, he returned to his place in the center of the room. Sitting down again, Katsuro set about fishing the orange back from the edge, glad to have some activity.

After Itachi rescued him, Katsuro promised himself he'd never be hurt again. Never give an opening, never leave a weak spot. But now just thinking about her made him feel exposed and vulnerable. He hated it.

Katsuro swiped the vine closer, inadvertently brushing up against the fruit. The orange rocked away a turn then stopped again. He had to take care or he would knock it over the edge.

Sighing, Katsuro laid out on his belly to get safely closer, stretching his arm for another careful swish of the vine.

This had to stop, he told himself.

Attachments can get you killed, he told himself.

They were both on missions, both knew the consequences. Both just playing their parts when their paths crossed.

So really, none of this was his fault, he told himself.

He needed to stop worrying about things that were out of his control. He had a task to focus on. And the concern he felt for her was just a distraction, a natural byproduct of a fleeting attachment. The thought clicked into place like a missing puzzle piece.

One last swipe, and this time the vine hooked the orange. He reeled in the branch steadily toward him to retrieve his prize.

Uncovering the source of his discontent made him feel better than he had all day. He had simply gotten too close to her, and it made him feel like he'd left an opening.

Flipping the fruit in the air, Katsuro began to strategize what he would need to do to get them both through the next two days. This was just like any other mission, he thought with a nod, and she was nothing more to him than a person to transport. There was no weak spot here.

He stood swiftly, flung the branch out of the gaping hole and headed for the stairs.

He thought this mission, the first one he was in charge of, would be a breeze. It was anything but.

Reaching their level, Katsuro was surprised it was completely dark. As he crossed the floor he decided she'd probably lit a little fire in the closed room—

But when he creaked open the heavy door to the room, panic set in. It was cold and very dark. He scanned the seemingly empty room, alarm rising that she might have actually tried to escape—

When his eyes finally found her quiet form, Katsuro was hit with a memory so sharp he stopped in the doorway to suck in a breath.

Across the room, her mostly flat blanket was where it had been all week, save for the body curled up at the top of her bedding, taking up as little room as possible in the world.

How many times had he done that? Wished that everything would go on without him?

He knew what she felt, he had been there. Abandoned at Konoha's hands. How many nights had he spent at the orphanage, just like that? Balled up, trying to take up as little space at all, wishing the world would just sweep over and forget you were there. That the crushing truth wasn't going to destroy you in the morning. And if not tomorrow, then certainly the next day.

He had lived through that. Survived. Escaped his prison without walls in the orphanage, where he was shunned, where he found out he was a monster, where he waited for the day when they dragged him off to a permanent jail cell, or to his death.

But Itachi pulled him from that misery, gave him a life and hope. Told him to never fear his power. That he was special. And that Konoha was wrong.

And now? Well, now he was someone else's jailor. Delivering the same punishment meted out to him in that village. The irony was too cruel.

He didn't want to think about his reasons anymore, telling himself that making amends to her was good strategy. He didn't want to be the one making her feel alone in the world.

Katsuro padded across the room, tossing the orange toward his rucksack, and patted the dust from his hands on his pants as he walked. Squatting down beside her, Katsuro pulled the edge of her blanket back, found her shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. She turned and looked back at him blinking. He could barely make out her face in the darkness.

He had moved so intently he had forgotten to prepare words. He cleared his throat.

"I just wanted to tell you that...I'm sorry," he said, exhaling. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

He couldn't remember the last time he'd apologized to anyone. He'd spent the first half of his life apologizing to everyone, just for being there, just for breathing. He swore he'd never be sorry for anything again.

She turned her head away to look back at the wall. "You don't have to be. I'm your prisoner. None of this matters anyway."

He frowned and sat down on the stones beside her, his knee leaning onto her blanket.

"I know it's easier to have a compliant prisoner than a hostile one," she said simply, shrugging one shoulder.

He looked up out of the window into the starred darkness. No, she wasn't a child in an orphanage. She was a kunoichi. She knew what her fate was.

But he didn't want her to feel alone. He understood how she felt, yet couldn't comprehend why she didn't rail against them.

He wanted to tell her she should be angry at her village. Instead, he told her why _he_ was angry at them.

"My village—" his throat closed suddenly. He swallowed and started again. "My village abandoned me. I had a power which was useful for them, but when they didn't need it anymore, I was thrown away like trash." He was glad for the darkness.

She rolled over to face him. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly. "Is that how you came to be with Itachi?" she asked tentatively. She could see him nodding in the darkness.

"They were going to kill me. Itachi found me before they could."

He didn't say anything for a long time. It was a big secret. Huge, actually. It was foolish to even tell her, and he knew Itachi would call him out for doing it. Endangering yourself, he would say, revealing too much. But he wasn't revealing any details.

However when he was finished, he found he couldn't say anything else. Just stringing the words together was painful. And thankfully she didn't push for more.

"If your village doesn't think your good enough, then it's their loss," he said quietly. "You never have to look back, either. Okay?"

He just wanted her to know, more than anything, that she wasn't alone. So much for breaking off his attachment, he thought wryly.

Something brushed his kneecap. He thought, but couldn't be sure, that she might have touched his knee in the darkness. There was a slight pressure there, but when he glanced down, he saw nothing but his own leg.

So he sat silently, not able to say anything else, but not wanting to leave her side either. That day, the majority spent in anger, was the longest he'd been away from her since he'd crashed into her life. He felt like that was long enough. He couldn't speak anymore, but he liked being physically close to her. Perhaps she felt the same.

After sitting for what felt like hours, emotions and reasoning unwinding, he repeated to her softly, "I'm sorry for what I said." The loss of anger left only exhaustion in its wake, and he was truly sorry.

"It's okay," was her tired reply. There it was again, he thought, the slight pressure at his leg where it fell over her blanket. This time he saw it. She reached her fingertips out to graze his bent knee, a little touch of reassurance.

Katsuro's breath caught in his throat.

A whole afternoon of frustration, of guilt and doubt, was wiped away with a single touch. What he agonized over, showing concern, opening himself up even a fraction to another person, she gave to him freely.

She silently, effortlessly let him know that he was not adrift. That the things that troubled him, mattered to her too. He had wanted her to feel better and know she was not alone in this mess. Amazingly, her soft touch made him feel like he wasn't alone either.

Katsuro told himself he didn't need her, that she was just part of a mission. But he was lying to himself.

The truth was clear now. This situation was neither of their faults, and he promised himself he wouldn't let it come between them again. Whatever connection he'd made to her, he knew now he didn't want to lose it.

He made a quick decision.

Moving silently across the room, Katsuro ran his hand along the wall till he found his pack. Fingers sunk in the folds of his blanket, he retraced his steps and unrolled it beside her. In the darkness, he felt the need to sleep next to her, so that he could reach out and tell her she wasn't alone. If she needed to hear it, he told himself. And maybe, just in case he needed to know she was there too.

* * *

The world was disarmingly quiet the next morning. A thick, wet mist cloaked the mountaintop, washing all the color from the room, and drenching the shadows a shade darker.

Katsuro lay on his side, watching the the soft rise and fall of her blanket, and wondered if she was awake yet. He didn't have to wait long for an answer.

The kunoichi flipped on her back, sighed deeply, blinked a few times, then bit her lip while her bright eyes darted unseeing over the old boards on the ceiling. He didn't need to ask — he knew she was thinking about what this day had in store for her.

"You okay?" Katsuro asked tentatively.

She must not have realized he was so close. The kunoichi turned suddenly at his voice, but her face broke into a wide smile, green eyes taking him in.

"You're a mess," she said with a laugh. He lifted a hand up to inspect it. She was right. He was filthy. A layer of brown dust coated his hand, he could only imagine what his face looked like. And his hair.

Smiling now too, he raked his fingers through his hair. Sure enough, a little cloud of dust shook out.

She laughed again, then quietly sat up to look out the window, pulling her knees up under the blanket. When she turned back to him again, her expression was quite different.

"This is it, then," she asked soberly, pinning him with wide eyes.

He wanted to lie, tell her everything was going to be alright, but he couldn't do that to her.

"Yeah, this is it," he muttered. "We better get going."

Both of them were quiet after that, making their own preparations for the journey. He brought her oranges, but she shied them away with a hand. The other hand clutched her stomach.

"It's a long way down, you'll need your strength," he said, hoping to convince her, knowing she didn't eat last night either.

"I just can't" she said quietly.

"I'll carry them then, until you can," he said, with a frown. He understood, her stomach was in a knot.

"Okay," she said dispassionately, her tone as colorless as the world around them.

Katsuro quickly gathered everything up and dispersed the ashes from the fire. Sakura just waited, numb. The activity suited him, whereas she seemed unable to move. But both felt the same.

They slowly climbed the winding staircase. Katsuro pulled doors closed on each platform.

When they reached the floor with the beautiful painting he stopped her.

"We need to close it back up, I don't want anything to happen to these," he said, gesturing to the paneled walls. When she didn't follow, he looked back at her reflexively. She stood outside the doorway, one arm folded over her stomach, a hand gently covering the fresh pink scar inside her elbow. The gray light streamed around her. She only looked up the stairwell, not making any effort to move.

"Just wait there," he said dully.

Katsuro swiftly closed up the shutters, locking them tight. Though he couldn't bring himself to look at the pictures, he knew they were there.

He could imagine the light fading over the scenes. The playing children, their smiling, upturned faces. He was stealing their sunlight.

The beautiful cherry tree and the spiraling river. There would be no more shafts of light to sparkle over the scene.

It was her favorite picture, and now his too. But their time in the forgotten temple had drawn to a close, the arching tree could no longer protect them. His chest felt hollow at the thought.

Though time may not pass in those paintings, it would not wait for them.

Katsuro finished as quickly as he could, desperate to be out of the room. Knowing that he was on the opposite side again, what she had brought to life he was plunging back into darkness.

At the door she waited in that unyielding grey light.

Though he tried to ignore the feeling as he crossed the darkened room, it bothered him that she wouldn't even spare a last look at the painting. Wasn't it special to her too?

He stepped out and pulled the red door closed, locking the rustic handle to ensure it would be safe until…. Until _what_ , he thought. They wouldn't be back, not this year, at least. And he'd never return here with her. His shoulders dropped with a sad sigh.

Turning around, he sought out her face, but she instinctively looked away. She couldn't hide the glistening tracks of tears on her cheeks, though. Those caught the light when nothing else did.

"Stop," was all he could say. It hurt him to see her upset, and he brought his hand up to brush the tears away from her face but stopped himself. Instead he cupped his warm palm over her shoulder.

"We've got a long way to go today, and you need to be alert," he said firmly, angry with himself now. The concern he felt for her still made him feel vulnerable. And their journey was only going to get harder.

She didn't look at him, but nodded once that she understood. They began again. By the time they got to the top all traces of sadness were gone, and her green eyes were scanning over everything like a seasoned shinobi.

Outside, the sun was already beginning to burn through the mist that enveloped the temple.

Standing at the door of the great hall, Sakura could hear the grumbling and scuffing sounds from the tiled patio outside before she could actually see the throng of men she knew were gathered there.

It was the first time she had been around any of them in more than a week, since the incident on the top floor.

When she stepped out onto the patio, the idle chatter stopped. A few looked at her, then looked away. Several didn't even acknowledge her.

Katsuro lingered just inside the doorway, and it gave Sakura time to check out the group. She noticed right away that a few were sporting bandages they'd not had on the trip up. Especially Raiden. He had what appeared to be a few broken bones, and a broken nose. Sakura frowned lightly. Possibly even a fractured jaw. Was this what he meant about healing them, she wondered.

The men had taken a keen interest in her as she looked them over. And her interest in their wounds only stoked their anger. One thug stepped forward and spit at her feet. This brought a few of the others to look her over challengingly

Sakura squared her shoulders, not letting them stare her down, no matter what. Because of their intense training, she felt the self confidence that had always eluded her. She _knew_ she could take them. There was not a doubt in her mind.

She set her chin and surveyed them all cooly. They never came after her again, but she could see why he insisted she be able to defend herself. It was clear they'd kill her if they had the chance. The men only continued to glare, none bold enough to make the first move.

Katsuro must have thought it was too quiet out there because suddenly he appeared at her side. Taking a half-step in front of her, he put his hands on his hips and blocked her body with his just slightly. But the point was made.

"Get going," he commanded. They turned silently and left, filing down the narrow path away from the temple. None of them dared to look at her now.

Sakura watched them go, waiting for Katsuro. He pulled the door shut and barred it, then turned to her with a sand cloak in his outstretched hand.

The kunoichi took it with a grimace and slung it around her shoulders. As she snapped it into place she looked up to Katsuro who was just finishing. Tucked under the edge of his collar were the ragged face wraps, the ones he'd thrown off the first night. She had to look away, pushing down the sick feeling in her stomach.

"Come on," he said, eyeing her overly pale face. "We're going to stay a safe distance behind them this time."

And, true to his word, they did. Winding down the meandering path into the daylight, Sakura didn't know how they survived the journey up there. The side of the temple that hung off the mountain was beyond steep, beyond treacherous. She kept a hand on the wall just to remind herself that she was vertical, and not going to topple over the edge like a falling leaf.

They followed the thin path until it disappeared, then they kept going right along the ridge line, moving farther and farther away from the lonely temple. The landscape changed, the temple blocks receded, and only the natural boulders were left pitted among the huge trees. Sakura was just wondering why they didn't take this easier route when they turned sharply and began a descent down the other side of the ridge.

Almost immediately the landscape began to change. Big trees still clung to the ridge top, but as they descended through the folds of land, the forest became thinner and thinner. Sakura also noticed the temperature was rising. Not in the sticky, moist way she was used to from summers in Konoha. This heat was hot, dry and blowing, and gaining intensity.

Hardwoods gave way to bristling pines, then those receded from the heat as well, leaving only sun-loving vegetation to pop up here and there. Bushes with thin, prickling leaves surrounded the non-existant path and Sakura began measuring the journey by shady spots. Every so often they would round a wind-carved boulder or a spiky bush to find a tree growing stubbornly in spite of the terrain, its trunk gnarled and hunched against the hot winds.

They had only been gone a few hours, but the difference was remarkable. A traveler would never know that beyond this arid, rocky landscape was a temple perched in a near rainforest at the top of the sky. It seemed like an oasis to her now.

Sakura watched the brown figure in front of her scale a large boulder then hop over the other side. She climbed it too, but her progress slowed to a halt. Wiping her sweat-slicked brow, she wondered if she could even see a trace of the green mountaintop, or if that too had been swallowed by by this unforgiving desert terrain.

Turning back, Sakura shaded her eyes and scanned the never-ending desolate ridge lines.

Finally she found it, but instead of the impossibly high mountaintop soaring over the earth, it was now just a sliver of green, torn between the rocky brown mountains and the wide blue sky. White clouds billowed past the thin, green line. It looked like you could run right up to the green and touch the cloud. But it was a mirage.

Below her gravel crunched, and she turned sad green eyes back to meet brown ones. Katsuro looked like he was born of the desert. Brown fatigues under a sand-colored cloak, even his dark hair and eyes blended in. Sakura squinted against the mockingly bright skies. She felt like she was going to blow away just looking at him.

"We can't stop out here, it's not safe," Katsuro called up to her. He looked past her shoulder to see what had caught her attention. When he realized that she was looking back toward the mountaintop, he only offered, "I know."

It was another sad irony. Yesterday Katsuro was telling her not to look back, now he wished he could go back too. He wished he could take back the things he'd said, he wished he had not wasted their last day in that safe haven.

Katsuro stepped up and held out his hand for her to leap off. She accepted silently.

"We'll stop soon, but we have a long way to go still," he said, and they quietly resumed their downward trek.


	11. Encounter

**Chapter 11 - Encounter**

A pink tongue flashed once, twice, then was gone. Thin brown knees bent, and the lean body curved to circulate the still air around it. Even in the dugout hollow under the huge sandstone boulder, the air was still stifling.

A steady crunching was fast approaching the hidden spot, though vibrations rippling beneath the sandy soil had long ago given away the presence of intruders.

Glassy brown eyes looked out, waiting, holding as still as the stone above it. But a quick tip of the head gave its presence away. A puff of dust from passing boots clouded over the hole, and then there was nothing more to see.

Sakura frowned. She had caught the movement too late. By the time she pulled her boot to a stop the lizard had already disappeared back under his rock.

She stooped to inspect the vacant hole anyway, thinking she'd gladly trade places with him. But from several steps ahead her companion flashed a glance back at her, and she knew she must continue her march.

The sun was high in the sky, and there was no angling her body to keep any part in shade. The heat seemed to bake them from all sides now.

Sakura licked her lips reflexively, then wished she hadn't. The never-ending wind — sometimes fierce blasts, sometimes only ragged puffs, but always hot — was beginning to take its toll. Her face was tight, and the dry air was stripping any moisture away almost immediately, making her lips only chap more.

'Surely we'll stop soon,' she thought, looking tiredly at the triangle shape of cloak that was quite a ways in front of her.

Katsuro moved briskly over the land, always watching where they were going, yet never unsure of himself. Sometimes he followed a sandy path, sometimes they scuttled over rocks. Again, no marks. Either he was an expert tracker or he had traveled this so many times he knew it by heart.

Ahead of her, lizards twisted their heads out from under rocks. But almost as soon as the creatures were in sight they disappeared with a flick. By the time Sakura passed their little holes they were long gone. If she hadn't seen those creatures on the trail ahead, she would have thought they were completely alone out here.

Sakura licked her lips again without thinking. They dried immediately, leaving them only more tight. The heat was numbing her brain, she thought with a huff.

"Hey," she called up to Katsuro to get her mind off her parched skin. He turned his head a fraction. "Do you know where we're going?"

He snorted immediately, and she rephrased her question. "I mean, are we following a trail...or a direction or..."

Katsuro's voice crackled to life. "These are animal paths, been here for eons." They hadn't spoken in hours, both reserving their energy in the oppressive heat.

Sakura was skeptical. "But how do you know where to go? We've gone over lots of areas where there is no trail at all."

At that moment, the dusty path terminated at another rock to be scaled. Sakura flashed her palm at the boulder to prove her point.

Katsuro looked at her, cheeks unnaturally pink from the heat and sun, clearly debating whether to answer. It was apparent, though, that neither were anxious to move on from the thin shade.

"If your life depends on something, you memorize every inch of it," he said with a sigh.

"So your whole group travels this way a lot?" she said, leaning her head against the rock.

"No," he said distractedly, peering around curve of the boulder. "Only a couple have ever been this way. Other than me." He pointed to the top, ending their conversation.

Beyond the boulder, they continued on the thin gravel path and passed several more trees, each casting a lacy shadow on the dry ground. Sakura hoped they would stop, but Katsuro passed each cool spot at the same clip.

She stopped looking, stopped hoping. Instead, she watched his shoes as they plodded over the sun-baked earth. Gravel and shadow blurred together beneath her.

Head bowed, she was still moving forward in this manner when the heels in front of her stopped suddenly. It took all of her training to not plow right into Katsuro.

"They've stopped ahead," he said, nodding to the clutch of men in the shade of a tree up the trail, "so this is far enough for us."

Just in front of them, a gnarled tree grew out of a crack in a smooth yellowed boulder. Its branches arced out over the path, and leaves jangled like dusty, green coins from the twisting, thorny limbs. But to Sakura, the mottled shade was just as good any from Konoha's majestic hardwoods.

She collapsed against the rock and stretched her hot feet out in front of her.

Nearby, Katsuro squatted in the shade, but he didn't rest. He passed back an orange from his rucksack, which she accepted now simply to quench her thirst.

She peeled the fruit and scanned the terrain. All around them, rocky folds of land rippled in the midday heat.

Sucking the orange segment, Sakura thought about her more pressing concern. She had told herself she would look for a way to escape on the way back down, but making a break here would surely end in death if you didn't know where you were going.

Beside her, glassy eyes blinked lazily from under the curve of the boulder. But just as Sakura moved for a closer look, the lizard darted out of sight. She sighed, pinched off a few tiny teardrops from the orange segment and laid them in the dust at the edge of his hole anyway.

"Things are going to get harder from here on out," she heard Katsuro say. "I'm not going to let you out of my sight now, okay?"

Sakura turned back and looked past him to see what had brought out such a statement. Far beyond them the men were grouped together in the shade, reminding Sakura of a pack of dogs. They were restless, talking, kicking the dirt, and conspicuously looking up the trail at them.

"Harder...you mean, with them?" she said in hushed tones. Just seeing the men down there gave her the feeling of being quarry.

"Well, them, and anyone else we might run across," he said.

Sakura waited till he'd turned back, then scanned the ridge lines sharply. Maybe this desert wasn't as desolate as it appeared.

"Could someone else find us out here?" she asked quietly. Her thoughts skipped ahead without an answer, though. If she could leave a sign, something showing that she'd been here, then—

Katsuro pivoted on his feet and swiftly stopped her line of thinking.

"We don't want to be found," he said shaking his head, eyes serious. "Not out here."

She blinked at him, watching him stand and refasten his rucksack, waiting for an explanation.

"Nomads, not fond of trespassers. And where there's one, there are plenty more," he said, nodding for her to stand. "As long as we keep moving fast, they won't get interested. More energy to catch us than is worth. But if we slow down, we're in trouble."

He scuffed at the dirt, hiding the obvious marks where she'd been sitting.

"And as long as we don't disturb anything, no one will know we've been here," he said.

His attention settled on the little pieces of uneaten fruit. She looked at it too, about to explain, when a brown flash darted out, snapped its pink mouth over the orange drops and disappeared.

Sakura couldn't hold back her surprised laugh. A pleased smile tugged up the corners of Katsuro's mouth.

"Well, that takes care of that," he said, smiling at her before drawing up the hood on his tan cloak. Sakura frowned lightly at his action.

"Hoods on, all the time now," he said in response to her unasked question. "Especially you, pinky," he added with a quick point to her hair.

The kunoichi pursed her lips in irritation at his epithet, which only brought a wider grin from Katsuro. He figured that'd get her, and he was right. She flipped hers over with a snap.

"Let's go," he said, chuckling softly, but his smile was already beginning to slip. By the time they'd stepped back out into the sun his easy manner had evaporated.

"Just stay close, and we'll be fine," he said tightly, eyes on the group ahead.

They started to move, and the men down the road picked up the pace as well. Sakura adjusted the hood, but could not shake the doomed feeling that washed over her now.

She was on her way down. Toward more men like them. Toward Itachi. Toward whatever fate awaited her that she would not go home from.

Katsuro's tension fueled hers. They continued the journey in silence, trekking down one rock-strewn ridge line after the next. By mid afternoon, the blue sky had been lost completely behind a yellow haze, and Sakura's fears were threatening to consume her.

"Is everyone in your camp like them?" she asked suddenly, just to fill the spaces between her thoughts.

"What?" he said, distractedly dragging a hand across his sweaty forehead. "Do you mean, like thugs?"

"Well, yeah. Actually, why do you even have them with you?" she said, glad to have something to land her thoughts on.

"They are my team. Like yours, I suppose," he said.

"My team works together, or is supposed to," she mumbled. "But it seems like you only keep those guys around just for the ambushes."

Katsuro went very quiet.

"Oh," she said. It all made sense. Those men ambushed, committed the crimes, while someone like Katsuro ran the operation. That's why he knew the trails so well. If it turned bad, Katsuro could get away, with the loss of a few men who looked like a disorderly bunch of thugs.

"You're entirely too smart for you own good, you know," he said, cutting his eyes back at her. She caught his glance, but the flash of a half-smile let her know she was still in safe territory with him.

"Then why are they so dead set on sabotaging you?" she said.

"They just do what they're told," Katsuro said, frowning. "And they're waiting to see if I'll screw up."

He narrowed his eyes as he watched their backs bob and sway down the trail from them.

But his comment made Sakura feel awful. She had screwed up, just like her teammate told her she would. And now she was being marched toward her fate.

"What's going to happen to me?" she said quietly, hoping this time he would tell her.

He just shrugged, avoiding an answer. He made it a point to never think too deeply about anything that went in his group. He never looked too hard or asked too many questions.

"Is Itachi going to kill me?" Desperation was seeping into her voice. "Am I marching to my death? Please tell me because I'll take my chances with them—"

"Just tell Itachi what he wants to hear," he said in controlled tones. "Tell him about his brother. That's all he wants."

Sakura snorted. "Right. And then he's going to let me just walk out of camp? Give me directions back to Konoha?"

Staring hard at the line of Katsuro's cloak in front of her, she could see his shoulders were tensed. He clearly didn't want to talk about it, but she pushed on.

"There is nothing I can tell him about Sasuke. Nothing."

"Don't be stupid," he snapped. "There's always something—"

"No, there's nothing," she repeated quickly. "I know nothing about him."

Katsuro shook his head. "Not possible. You're teammates. You would know more about him than anyone else—

"No. You don't understand. He hates me. Like you said about your teammates, he wants to see me fail." She added quietly, "and he doesn't have to look far."

Katsuro turned back to her quickly, and Sakura stopped too. His deep scowl and dark eyes only a thin veneer for the anger she knew was just beneath the surface, but she didn't care anymore. She wasn't lying. This whole journey a waste of their time. Whatever Itachi wanted, she didn't have it to give. There was no reason to hold back that truth now.

"The reason we're on this mission is because of me, because I got us into trouble in the village," she said earnestly, forcing herself to continue. "Then, out here, I go and get abducted for information. But I have nothing to tell. Nothing," she said, splaying her hands out in front of her.

"And now I'm going to die for the one person who says I'm useless, that I'm the dead weight on the team." Her voice was growing watery. "You want information about him, and I'm even going to fail at that."

Sakura scrubbed a hand across her face in frustration, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"We're not teammates. He tried to get me removed from his team," she said with a bitter laugh. "He probably never even reported me missing."

Sakura stopped suddenly, a look of breathless horror splashed across the her face. Sakura was not entirely serious when she'd said it, but she'd hit upon a true enough scenario. She shook her head slowly back and forth in disbelief. It all made sense now.

"That's why—" Her voice was suddenly thick with emotion. "That's why no one ever came for me—"

Wide eyes pooled with tears. They broke and spilled in hot, thin streaks down her face. Sakura brought a hand to her mouth, trying to hold in a sob, gaze pinned unseeing on Katsuro's slackening face, but she was powerless to hold back the flood of despair. She couldn't even speak. The awful truth swept her under— She had been abandoned by the ones who were supposed to protect her.

Sakura curled her shoulders and buried her face in her hands under the hood of her cloak. The tan fabric shook with her sobs.

There, adrift on a barren desert ridge line, the undeniable truth laid bare in the blistering sun, the young Leaf kunoichi unraveled.

Katsuro looked on helplessly. Anger and pain warred within him. He hated Konoha more than ever now. And her teammate, the Uchiha…. He wanted to snap him in half.

But now he also had an equally strong urge to stop her tears. To stop the pain she felt, which was aching in him too now. He wanted to make her feel better for both of them.

When had he grown so attached to her? When had she slipped inside and become part of him?

A hot wind pressed down on them. The flicker of movement in the dried brush around them brought Katsuro back to reality. They were endangering themselves by staying in one place for so long.

"Come on," he said quietly. Katsuro reached down and curled his fingers around her soft forearms, pulling her hands from her face. Pink blotches crept up her throat. She coughed raggedly and brushed the tears from her cheeks, but the light in her green eyes was gone.

The kunoichi only pushed her lips together and nodded when he said lamely, "We've got to keep moving."

Hollow footsteps and the occasional soft sound of her crying were the only things accompanying them on the trail the rest of the long evening. The sun had slid beyond the farthest ridges, but the heat of the day still hung heavy over them as if trapped under a bowl.

Katsuro silently walked in front of her, cycling through what he knew of her and where she had come from. There were definitely things that bothered him, and he wanted some answers.

"Did your teammate really say those things to you?" Katusuro bit out. "About being useless, and all that?"

"Yeah," she answered tiredly. "He said a lot more than that."

Katsuro couldn't respond. A familiar fury threatened to grind up his insides, but thankfully seeing the men loitering far up the trail took his mind away from his useless anger.

"They've stopped up ahead. We'll stay here for the night," Katsuro said, pointing to an outcrop of large wind-carved stones at the crest of the ridge. The rocks would provided natural protection, and the position made it easy to watch for unwanted visitors, be it from his group or from roaming thugs _not_ organized into a unit, he thought.

The pair collapsed against the rock, both truly exhausted.

Katsuro leaned his head back and looked up at the night's first glimmering stars. But beside him the kunoichi pulled up her knees up and buried her head. She tried to hold off her tired tears, but they came on soon enough.

Katsuro couldn't take it.

He wanted to reach over and shake her shoulder or ruffle her hair or do _something_ to quiet her muffled sobs. But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I'm going up top to take a look around," he said brusquely, knowing that there was no need to climb the rock they were leaning against. They'd had a clear view of their surroundings all evening.

She took no notice. He wasn't even sure she knew he'd left.

Safely ensconced on the top of the rock, distancing himself from her tears, Katsuro set about scanning the area for any anomalies in the landscape.

But he couldn't hold his focus for long. He thought back to his unanswered question from the night before.

Was he just going to hand her over? Walk away and pretend that he didn't care what happened to her?

No, she didn't deserve to suffer at Itachi's or anyone else's hands. And she didn't deserve this fate because of Itachi's rotten younger brother, he thought angrily.

Katsuro made it a point to never look too closely at what happened to the people brought in to camp for information. Up until now, they all seemed to be thugs, men on the shady side of a deal who probably deserved what they got.

But she didn't.

Katsuro sat still for a long time, eyes roving the jagged line where the luminous night sky met the ink-black earth. There had not been a single movement. If the desert dwellers had not crawled out of the rocks by this time, then they would probably have an uneventful night, he thought.

Relaxing his shoulders, Katsuro kicked his legs out in front and leaned back on his elbows. He held his breath and listened for the kunoichi. No noise meant she had finally worn herself out from crying.

Katsuro sighed.

She was worried about what was going to happen. And to be honest, he was worried too.

He understood how she felt, that you'd never be good enough, that you could be discarded so easily. Yes, he thought bitterly, he knew exactly how she felt, probably better than anyone else. After all, hadn't Konoha done it to him too?

If her team didn't want her, and her village didn't care, then she had nothing to go back for either. Aside from some lingering loyalty, there was nothing else tying her to that place.

He started to look at all her options to survive this ordeal. Maybe if she told Itachi everything, and he vouched for her abilities, Itachi would let her stay on with his group. She was far better than any of the usual thugs they rounded up, he thought. And it wouldn't be the first time they'd recruited a village shinobi….

What if she could stay...

Katsuro clasped his hands beneath his head and kicked one foot over the other. He stared up into the night sky, letting his mind wander, thinking about how it would work, how he could convince Itachi. He imagined missions, training and sparring, growing stronger together as partners...as teammates.

A bright, warm feeling unfurled in his chest. The thought was a spark of hope in the darkness.

A soft voice came whispering up from below the rock. "Katsuro?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you ok? Do you want to switch?"

Katsuro frowned, then scooted over to the edge, keeping his body low to the warm rock. He hung his head over and looked at her inquisitively. There was enough light from the sliver of moon to see her face. She was waiting for an answer, but he still didn't know quite what she meant.

"Do you need me to take a watch? So you can get some rest?"

He couldn't help but smile. Wasn't this the answer to his question? He was wondering what it would be like to have her as a teammate, and she already was. It had been right in front of him all along and he just couldn't see it.

Looking down at her tired face, his mind fell into the slipstream of what he would do for her if _he_ was her teammate. How far would he go?

He decided there were simply no limits.

Katsuro knew then what he had to do. He had to get her through this mess somehow.

"No. We're safe here. I'm coming down," he said, and swung his legs over to slide down the steep side of the boulder.

Rucksack in hand, he sat down beside her on the gravel.

"You okay?" he said, looking into her face with open concern.

She shrugged, looking away. Katsuro sighed.

He didn't want to lie to her, but he wanted to give her hope. He didn't know how he was going to talk Itachi in to letting her stay with his group, but that's what he intended to do, he thought firmly.

"We need to rest as much as we can. Tomorrow will be just as hard," he said softly.

She still didn't say anything, just hooked her hands in front of her bent knees. He slipped the thin blanket from the bottom of the bag and laid it where her head would lie. He flattened out the top of rucksack on the ground and tried to get as comfortable as possible on the scrap of fabric.

"If you tell him what he wants to hear, I think he'll let you out of this," Katsuro said. "Itachi's not that bad."

Sakura, however, had a very different opinion. From what she knew of him, there was no way Itachi was going to 'let her out of this.' He wasn't going to let her return home. She didn't know what Katsuro was thinking.

She leaned her head back on the blanket-pillow he'd made for her. Looking askance, she could see him rearranging his back pack for maximum comfort. He wouldn't find any there, she thought.

Sakura frowned into the darkness. Really, what was he doing? Telling her she was going to make it, sacrificing his comfort for hers — why did he go so far for her?

Sakura sighed. Though she couldn't believe in it, just offering some hope made her feel better. His kindness made her feel less alone. He had changed in the time she'd known him. At least to her, he had. She couldn't trust him, not implicitly, but she felt like she had a partner in this mess. Everything about him said it. And for that she was grateful, no matter what happened to her.

Her life in Konoha was as far away as those stars. But this boy and his little kindnesses were the only things keeping her afloat now.

A dreadful thought occurred to her: What if she had been caught by one of the men in the group ahead of them? She smothered the mental image and sat up quickly. But thinking of the clear differences between him and his group spurred her to make an impulsive decision.

The kunoichi snatched up the blanket from behind her and refolded it hastily into a long, thin rectangle.

"Lift up," she said over her shoulder. Katsuro slowly sat up on his elbows. Ignoring the questioning frown on his face, she turned back and quickly shoved the rucksack out of the way, replacing it with the strip of blanket. It was just long enough for them to share now.

Unable to look at him, not wanting to explain, she quickly laid down on her side, back to Katsuro, and pulled the cloak over her tucked-up legs. She wasn't cold, it just made her feel safer.

"Th-Thanks," came his startled voice in the darkness. His elbows slowly slid down and the blanket shifted under the additional weight.

Sakura closed her eyes, exhaled and tried to rest. He was right, if they were safe now she should conserve her energy. There was no telling what the next day would bring.

Beside her, Katsuro sighed deeply.

* * *

Morning light streaked across the jagged landscape, and almost immediately the air temperature started to rise. But the group had been up before the sun, picking their way in the cooler, pre-dawn glow. Now she was glad for that early start. Sakura reached a hand under her cloak and pushed the sweaty spikes of hair out of her eyes. Ahead of her, Katsuro adjusted his hood against the sun. She could tell he was beginning to feel the heat too.

Around them the land creased and folded in barren slopes. The farther they went, the less vegetation there was. Pin-leafed shrubs replaced the weather-worn trees, but the bushes grew so close to the ground they provided almost no shade. Even the lizards seemed to have abandoned the land now.

Sakura shielded her eyes at one vantage point, trying desperately to see anything other than endless brown ridges. But there was no break in the pattern. There would be no escaping from here, she thought.

Katsuro stopped and looked back at her, eyes tired but still urging her on. They were both in too deep to stop now, they had to push through. She nodded and fell back into step behind him. Sakura didn't have the heart look up again. Instead she kept her eyes to the ground and let the sound of Katsuro's steady footfalls mix in with her own.

Slowly trekking over the unforgiving terrain, the better part of the day crept by in that heavy silence.

"Almost there," Katsuro rasped finally. He cleared his throat. "Look," he said, pointing to a thin line of green a few ridges beyond them.

Sakura would have dismissed the out-of-place color as a mirage. She blinked at it, but couldn't be truly happy. It was still hours away. And though a cool, leafy valley was alluring after this grueling journey, she didn't want to think about what else might be waiting for her in the shade of those trees.

If that was their destination, she thought tiredly, she'd just as soon die out here. But her feet carried her on anyway.

They covered more ground, the slice of green bobbing in and out of view behind brown ridge lines, until finally they were upon it.

Slipping down through rising sandstone rocks, they followed a path to what Sakura thought was the desert floor. But the grey trail wound down even deeper into the rocks, and before she knew it they were following the path in between two sandstone walls. The cool air and blue-grey light in the crevasse was a balm, and Sakura began to revive a bit.

At the end of the narrow channel, crowns of brilliant green trees came into view.

A deep gorge had been carved into the sandstone, and the thin slice of green she'd caught glimpses of from the ridge top was practically hidden by the surrounding cliffs.

But what Sakura thought was a single valley, perhaps an oasis in the shade, was really a meandering forest that had sprung up around a desert river. The swath of woodland spread away from them on both sides, the end and beginning hidden by the folding canyon walls.

Sakura suspected that if this where Katsuro's group was hidden, then the woods probably went on like this forever in both directions. A newcomer could never find this place twice in a row.

But, she thought, eyes sharpening to scan the area, if there was a river, then it could be her lifeline out of here.

Before leaving the safety of the sandstone cliffs, Katsuro drew the leather binding from his pocket, the one he'd tied up her arms on the beginning of their journey. How differently he felt now, he thought. Face guilty, he held out the thin strap.

The corners of kunoichi's mouth dropped into a watery frown at the sight of the bindings, but she didn't resist.

Silently, she put both hands in front of her, but Katsuro shook his head.

"No, just one hand. They'll be watching for us, so you still need to look the part," he said.

Katsuro wrapped the binding around one wrist and had nearly finished when Sakura felt her arm twisted out a little more than was necessary, exposing her inner arm. She knew the long crescent scar was there, where the skin had been ripped away by the bindings on the way up, forever marring the pale skin below the crease of her elbow.

Katsuro stopped wrapping, his hand hovered over her wrist. Sakura couldn't see his face, but his attention was fixed on something. He resumed the wrapping, though, and pushed the extra long tail in the kunoichi's palm.

"Not too tight, is it?" he asked, looking up into her face, brown eyes holding something more than just passing interest.

Sakura was beginning to understand his ways a little. He had seen her scar. The innocent question, the earnest look — he wanted her to know that he wouldn't willfully hurt her again. Her expression softened at his pointed concern.

"No, it's ok. Thanks," she said softly.

"Good," he said with a nod. "Now for mine."

Katsuro dug his finger under the collar of the Sand cloak, hooked the front of his face coverings and hitched it up over his nose.

Sakura's stomach did a somersault, and she had to look away. But she didn't have long to grapple with the fear that seeing the binding and face coverings dredged up.

A warm hand covered hers and pried back her tightly gripped fingers. She snapped back to look at his face as he pulled the long tail of the leather binding from her loosening fist. The pleasant crinkle at the corners of his eyes took the edge off her fear. At least she didn't feel as alone as the first time she did this.

But she couldn't ignore the sinking feeling that this might be her only chance to run. They left the shelter of the cliffs, picked their way down the crumbling slope, then walked side by side, crunching across clumps of dead grass that grew at the farthest edge of the valley floor.

Panic gripped her. She had to think, make a plan. She had to delay going into those woods.

"Why the mask now, with your own group, and not the whole way down," she asked with false lightness. At the same time, she stopped in her tracks.

He cast a puzzled glance at her and tugged the binding gently. She took a few slow steps as he answered.

"Because it's more dangerous in here than out there," he said simply. "Nomads don't care who you are when they rob you. But there are things more valuable to Itachi and the men he deals with than money," he said quietly, thinking of his own role in this shadowy world. "The money only keeps everything else going."

Sakura went numb beside him and slowed to a stop again. Katsuro's words only deepened her fears. He tugged again on her bindings. She began walking only out of reflex.

"I have nothing that will be of any value to Itachi," she repeated to herself, as if in a daze.

Katsuro frowned. He kept going, half-pulling her across the dried grasses.

But the growing certainty that only death waited for her in those woods shook Sakura from the grip of her paralyzing fears. Her feet sunk in the sand between clumps of brown grass. This time she would go no further.

"I am going to die here!" She jerked back at the bindings, voice growing louder. "I'm not going to be allowed to just walk away. You think I don't know what Itachi's capable of?" She flung back her hood. "I'd rather die on my own in the woods than—"

"Stop it," he said, turning back quickly. "Just stop. You don't know anything for certain and neither do I."

He drew up directly in front of her, never letting go of the binding. His free hand reached past her shoulder and drew the hood back over her head. But instead of letting go of the fabric, he slid his hand down to the collar and pulled her a little closer.

Eyes darting warily at the cliffs around them, Katsuro leaned his head in to say quietly, "All I know—" But his voice came out muffled. Jerking the face cover down, he grabbed the outside of her shoulder tightly and began again.

"All I know," he whispered fiercely, "is that if you run you will be killed. And there would be nothing I could do to stop it. But if you stay with me and cooperate, then maybe he'll let you out of this."

They were so close the front of his hood grazed hers as he spoke. Sakura's pale face hovered inside her hood, and he hoped she'd accept, for both their sakes—

"But what if he doesn't," she retorted desperately. "What then?"

Sakura searched his face, but his confidence from the moment before was already slipping.

"Then, I'll... I'll—"

But he really didn't know what he'd do.

He wanted to fulfill his mission, but he wanted to allay her fears too. It was too much to hope that Itachi would just let her walk away, but he refused to think of the other alternative.

He couldn't hold her gaze. Sakura took it as confirmation of her worst fears. She started to pull back, deciding in a panic which direction to run—

A cough echoed loudly from the treeline. They both froze. Wind rattled through the dead grasses around them, moving both of their cloaks together.

Brown hair swayed across Katsuro's forehead. His eyes locked on hers in the thick silence. He mouthed, "Shh," but made no sound.

Sakura held her breath and nodded her head imperceptibly. The need to be self-protective was familiar territory and gave her something to cling to. Fear driven from her face, her green eyes focused on Katsuro's brown ones with clarity of purpose.

With a single nod, he withdrew his hand, dragged the concealments back up over his face and turned slowly.

Waiting there in the shadow of a tree was an older man in brown fatigues. Similar concealments hid his face.

Katsuro's shoulders relaxed and he tugged lightly on the leather strap. Sakura knew there was no choice but to follow. As she walked, she watched the man from under the shadow of the hood.

He was not interested in her however, and kept his eyes only on Katsuro. Sakura registered instantly his body language wasn't like the others. This man stood rod-straight, but with his hands behind his back, waiting like a soldier. His eyes were half-lidded, almost as if he were irritated with Katsuro—

"It's about time you showed up."

Katsuro turned petulant. "Tch. I know the way—"

"Itachi would like for you to take the lower road," the man said with forced patience. "There are a 'few things' in camp that are taking longer than expected."

It sounded like they were talking in code, and whatever the message was, Katusuro understood it.

He was suddenly obedient. "Hai," he said, bowing his head once. By the time he raised up, the old man had already disappeared back into the trees.

Still holding the leather binding, Katsuro reeled in the excess length, so that she was quite close to him, their shoulders bumping every so often.

"Was that your captain?"

Katsuro didn't answer.

Sakura set to gleaning as much information as she could from her surroundings. They headed directly to the wide, rock-strewn river. The trail was a natural clearing beside along its flat, winding banks.

"So…is this a road?" She scanned ahead as she spoke, looking for signs it was leading toward civilization.

Katsuro was still silent, but when he glanced over and saw her mapping everything, he knew what she was thinking.

"Just don't run, ok?" he said under his breath, then pushed back his hood.

She slid hers off as well, but didn't answer.

They followed the 'road' for quite a while. Sakura's gaze darted over the ground as they walked. She was still looking for an escape route, even as she anxiously prepared herself for what she might face at the end of this road. Katsuro's tight voice startled her—

"Stay close," he said, fingers grazing her arm.

Two shapes were coming toward them on the trail. The light at their backs silhouetted them, but Sakura thought one might be a pack animal as it walked with such a strange gait.

Beside her Katsuro was on high alert.

He drew the thin leather closer and closer to him, until there was no more left. Then, never taking his eyes from the oncoming travelers, he slid his fingers down the wraps of leather and caught up her hand, crushing it in his own with the wad of binding.

With her arm caught between his elbow and his ribcage, she was locked to him, her bindings effectively hidden from view by his arm and the edge of his cloak. Tucked so close together, the picture they presented was very different from reality.

Sakura quickly decided whoever this was, Katsuro did not trust them. If he thought it was safer to give the impression they were romantically linked, then this was probably not someone she should trust either.

'Fake it, fake it, fake it,' she told herself, and pushed her fingers deeper into his grasp. Katsuro tightened his hand at first, thinking she was trying to pull away, but slackened his grip a fraction so she could spread her fingers and wrap her thumb around the back of his hand. The bindings were completely hidden between their two palms.

He gave her hand a quick squeeze, but it didn't register with Sakura. Her eyes were transfixed on the two men that were coming into clearer view.

One was tall with deceptively serene features. A blond ponytail fluttered over his shoulder as he fixed his attention on the girl. Laughing blue eyes took in her whole figure, and he flipped a lock of sunny hair back from his face to flash her an arrogant smile. He looked as if he could have just come from a village festival instead of a den of thieves. To Sakura, that swaggering alone meant he was either very stupid or very powerful.

But his traveling partner, the one she had mistaken for an animal, sent a real tremor of fear through her.

His figure was nearly doubled over when compared to the man beside him. Only a few shocks of bristled black hair streaked over his scalp, and his face was partially hidden by a ragged triangle of fabric. He swiveled his head and fixed cruel black eyes on her.

But something was horribly wrong with him, and Sakura couldn't tear her eyes away.

As he approached, she could hear a faint rattle and clack that kept time with his lurching gate. Sakura thought it sounded like his bones moving.

The long red and black cloak that swirled elegantly around the blond was draped across the hunched man like a tablecloth. It tipped off at odd angles as he moved closer, and the whole back of it dragged on the ground, leaving a half-moon trail sidewinding in its wake.

Intuition caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle up. These men were predators. And she still wasn't sure the hunched man was fully human.

"I told you this was the right path to leave by, Sasori no danna," the blond man said with a smooth laugh. "Sometimes you have to go to extra lengths for something interesting. Of course _Itachi_ would try to throw us off." He said Itachi's name as if he had something against him.

The other man, Sasori, snapped at the taller one. "Shut up, you fool," he growled deeply.

Both parties were silent as they walked the last few paces to their inevitable meeting on the path.

Katsuro grasped her hand tightly and Sakura schooled her features, hiding her fear behind a look of disinterest.

They came within a few feet of the other men, and Katsuro stepped to one side of the path, pushing the kunoichi to the outside. He nodded deferentially and made to pass them, when the blond man snorted.

"Here we've come all this way to see you. And this is the greeting we get?" He spoke to Katsuro, but his attention was already shifting to the girl.

Katsuro stepped forward to continue walking, edging the kunoichi up slightly in front of him, but the one called Sasori was quicker.

Sakura couldn't keep her eyes from going wide when a long skeleton tail whipped out from underneath the cloak, arced into the air and held its flicking end just off the ground in front of her. The whole thing clattered softly as it moved. Sakura's stomach tightened reflexively.

If they wanted them to stop, then they succeeded. She and Katsuro were boxed in.

Beside her, she heard Katsuro say cooly to the blond, "May I help you with something?"

But the man only curled his lip into a mean smile. He leaned his head to the side, letting the breeze lift the long tendrils away from his face.

"Who is your friend?" he drawled, looking around Katsuro trying to glimpse the kunoichi he had tucked under his arm.

Sakura knew she couldn't hide. She needed to respond. She thought of the things he'd told her, how she should react in this situation: Don't be afraid, even if you feel it. Hide it. This isn't a test or a class. There is no pass or fail. This is survival.

She couldn't fight her way out, but she could fake it.

Sakura took a half step forward from out of his shadow and mimicked Katsuro's disdainful attitude. She set her chin and squared her shoulders. If she was terrified inside, then it didn't show on the surface.

"You have remarkable hair, my dear," the blond said, raising an eyebrow with interest as he settled his gaze on her.

Katsuro tightened his hand over hers. Only her medical training told her the temperature of the body she was pressed tightly against had spiked just then.

But Sakura refused to be flustered. Taking her cue from Katsuro, she nodded deferentially to the blond man as well, never taking her eyes off his blue ones. If Katsuro did it, she thought, then maybe playing along would get them out of this quicker.

But Sasori had been scrutinizing the girl while she was preoccupied with his partner. He noticed early on that she did not leave Katsuro's side. And when she did move, Katsuro's cloak moved with her. With her last shift of weight, the fabric gaped for a moment, giving the hunched man a clear view of the out-of-place leather wrapping up her arm.

"I think all is not as it seems," he grunted. The blond shifted his gaze to his partner and waited with mild curiosity.

Sasori wielded his tail like a scorpion. It reared back and struck in a blur at the ground beneath the kunoichi.

Sakura leapt straight into the air with a gasp, exposing the binding on her arm and knocking their cloaks away from both of them.

A sizable gouge was left where moments before her feet had been.

But Katsuro used the distraction to his advantage. No more need to hide, he let go of her hand and turned to face both opponents, pushing the kunoichi behind him. He dropped into his fighting stance and threw up a hand sign, watching both men to see who would strike next.

Wasting no time, Sakura sunk down into a defensive position as her feet touched the ground. Bending her knees, she pushed her foot closest to Katsuro, sliding up firmly behind his heel. Using a textbook position to guard Katsuro's back, Sakura angled her body to his so that they formed a loose, inverted "V" shape, and set her sights on Sasori.

Between them, the binding whipped free from her wrist, the long tail dangling down to their knees. But it didn't matter if these men saw it now. Sakura knew this was the flip side of faking it — when there was no way out but to fight through. And she was ready.

The blond threw his head back and laughed. Sasori flicked his tail menacingly at them a few more times before he retracted it. But it still hovered at the ready, its hollow knocking sound filling the air.

"That's more like it," the blond man said, still chuckling. "Don't worry, we aren't interested in your little..." he said, eying her bindings with a half smile, "hostage?"

He rolled his fingers nonchalantly when he was sure he had the kunoichi's attention, and Sakura was horrified to see a matching smile shining back at her from the middle of his palm.

"So," Sasori grunted, "this is Itachi's contact?" The rest of his clattering tail slid back under his cloak. "I would have given him more credit than that." He stepped back slowly and resumed his lumbering walk up the path. He came to a halt behind partner, waiting.

Sakura glanced back at the arrogant blond, hoping he would follow suit, but she caught sight of the grotesque mouth laughing at her from the middle of his hand. A pink tongue slipped out and glossed the lips before the whole thing curled into a malicious smile. Ripples of fear coursed up Sakura's midsection.

"Is there something I can help you with, Deidara-sama," Katsuro growled when he didn't fall back with his partner.

"You have to ask?" the blond drawled, slipping his hand down to his side, reaching for something hidden under his cloak.

"Deidara," Sasori said sharply and flicked his tail back out around the blond. It hung in the air threateningly between the two parties, and Sakura wasn't sure who the target was.

"We have made our agreement, and you must comply," he said sternly.

"You don't have to remind me, Sasori no danna," Deidara grumbled, turning a shoulder petulantly at the hovering point of the tail. Sasori obviously thought this was a sufficient enough response. He withdrew the appendage with a long slow clatter and began moving again, this time not bothering to wait for his companion.

Sakura thought this must be the end of their standoff.

But before Katsuro could back away, Deidara leaned close to issue another threat.

"You won't always be under his wing, Katsuro," he whispered harshly, his mouth curling now into a mean sneer.

The smooth lines of his face vanished. The cold blue eyes were unnaturally wide now, greedily devouring Katsuro as if he were a long-sought possession. Deidara ground his teeth, a small muscle at his jaw jerked against the tension, and he curled both hands into loose fists at his sides. Sakura wondered with disgust if he might have a mouth in both hands.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Katsuro said lowly, his own hands balled tightly.

In an instant, though, the blond's bloodthirsty expression was gone, replaced by studied nonchalance.

"Oh I don't?" he laughed carelessly as he turned to follow his partner. "Well, we'll see about that," he said back over his shoulder with a laugh.

Katsuro turned to watch them go, still keeping the kunoichi safely behind him. Sakura didn't know what he was waiting for.

"Goodbye, pink-haired friend," Deidara said breezily to the trees.

"Come on," Katsuro whispered beside her when the men were a safe distance away. Katsuro turned and she automatically reacted to his urgency. They were already hurrying down the path when Sakura realized it was his hand in hers that was guiding her, the leather binding bouncing free around both their fingers. But there was no time to reflect on it.

A sickly pale creature fluttered past her shoulder to hover on the trail in front of her. It looked like a ghost of a butterfly, all its beauty and color had been stripped away. But there was something unnatural in its movements, as if it was looking for something…or someone.

"Oh no," Katsuro gasped. Suddenly, he pushed all his weight into her, diving into the safety of the tree line and forcing her down with him. Before they even hit the ground, the path and trees were rocked by a fireball explosion in midair.

Sakura's eyes were wide with the reflection of red flames. A few charred branches fell from some of the trees, and birds were scattering everywhere. Cruel laughter floated back up the path.

"You ok?" he said quietly, scanning the area.

"Yeah," she said. Both stood quickly. "That butterfly was..."

Katsuro nodded and filled in what she suspected.

"A bomb," he said. "I think that was the only one, though."

She gasped. "Was he trying to kill you?"

"No," Katsuro muttered, as brushed leaves off his cloak. "He was just screwing around. If he wanted to kill us, we'd be dead already."

They skirted the blackened chunk of path and continued on in silence.

She had the binding clutched in her hand to keep it from dragging, and he no longer felt the need to hold on to her tightly. Now she knew why he'd said not to run, she thought wryly, why he'd said it was more dangerous in here than it was out there.

They continued on in the same close proximity as before, shoulders nearly touching, cloaks brushing up against each other. Katsuro was tense. Sakura meditated on the skill required to create a perfectly functional bomb like that. No small feat. No wonder...

"The cloak," she said quietly, "it matched Itachi's. Are they in the same group..." her voice thinned. But the answer sunk like a stone. Akatsuki.

Katsuro was silent. She looked to the side, studying his face. Finally he said, haltingly, "Don't think too much about what you see here, ok?"

She frowned. Sakura had a feeling he wasn't being purposefully cagey, but giving her an honest warning. There was danger in knowing too much.

"Well, what about them," she ventured, nodding back down the path. "Were they enemies of yours?" She wasn't even sure he would respond.

"No. _They_ are allies," Katsuro said, driving the point home. He cut his eyes at her quickly. "But you did good. Really good."

He stretched his fingers out to graze the back of her hand. Katsuro couldn't resist reaching out to her, reassuring her, as she had done for him the night in the temple. She was definitely scared, and though he knew it wasn't safe to tell her, he was going to do everything he could to get her through this.

Rough fingertips had only just touched her skin when voices ahead drew both their attention.

Katsuro felt her breath hitch beside him. He curled his hand back under his cloak, but did not step away from her.

The same older man from before stepped out on the trail ahead of them.

Sakura looked at him with interest, but as soon as her eyes met his, he turned his face away.

"Katsuro," the man said gruffly, "Itachi-sama wants to see the prisoner immediately."

Katsuro was quiet. Sakura held her breath. Neither moved.

"Katsuro!" the man shouted in irritation.

"Hai, taichou," he muttered finally.


	12. Teammates

**Chapter 12 - Teammates**

After following a few more curves in the river, Sakura looked up the flat bank to where an unassuming footpath spurred off. It hopscotched across the water on broad stones, then rose with the land on the other side.

They followed the narrow trail down to the river's edge in silence. There was simply nothing more to say. But before she could sink her foot down onto the first stone, Katsuro laid a hand across her arm to stop her.

She did stop, and waited, watching him all the while, but Katsuro did not seem inclined to move. In fact he appeared to be deep in thought. But whatever was troubling him he quickly buried in activity.

The rogue turned back and, never looking directly at her, took up both her hands in his. It was so formal and strange that, for an instant, Sakura thought he was going to vow something to her. Clutch her hands, look into her eyes and make a rash promise of some sort. But it never came.

Instead he pushed her hands together, caught up the long leather strap and wrapped it snugly around her free arm, binding both together as he had done days before.

She was a fool, she thought as she closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of unruly brown locks swinging over her arms. She needed to be making a plan, not wishing to be saved.

His task finished, Katsuro looked back across the river and blew out a low breath. Sakura just felt sick. Now, the silence was oppressive.

Finally, rough fingertips traced up the bindings past her elbow, grazing the rippled scar. Katsuro closed his hand around her upper arm and gave a slight squeeze, signaling it was time to move again.

They crossed the river and moved up the steeper bank until the land flattened out. Trees spread away from them on all sides, running right up to the high canyon walls. Sakura recognized the handful neatly organized tents nestled against the base of the cliff.

Though afternoon light streamed down to the valley floor and riverbed, it did not reach those tents. Like ghosts in shadows, they seemed to hover there, ominous and quiet. A limp breeze rippled the outside edges of pale canvas. The movement fluttered Sakura's insides with dread.

"Please," she let out a thin half-cry, her fears getting the best of her. "Just tell me what he's going to do to me. I would rather know and be ready," she whispered desperately. "Not knowing what's going to happen is worse."

Katsuro was robbed of a response. He had been where she was right now, lived in it for years and years.

"You can't fake it through a genjutsu," she added.

"No," Katsuro answered slowly, never taking his gaze from the line of tents. "Just answer his questions."

He lapsed into silence again, trying to think of a way out for her. Itachi's genjutsus were nothing if not cruel. But if she cooperated, then maybe there wouldn't be a need for it. He made up his mind.

"Listen closely," Katsuro whispered, yanking his face wraps down. He urged her to continue walking, but dipped his head next to hers and spoke quickly. "Answer his questions, but don't look in his eyes. Look anywhere else on his face, but not his eyes." He knew she was familiar with genjutsu, but telling her how to fight Itachi's made him feel better anyway.

"You want me to fight it?" she said in disbelief. "He'll kill me for sure then—"

"No! Cooperate," Katsuro said emphatically. "Tell him everything. Don't hold back. You said so yourself, you don't know that much, so you don't need to hide anything. But don't get caught in his genjutsu," he said darkly. "If you do, then there's no way out until he's finished with you."

Katsuro didn't know if he could break Itachi's illusions, even a low level one. He'd never tried. But if all went well, he wouldn't have to. He was hoping that if she divulged what she knew, then Itachi would turn her back over to him. If Konoha didn't want her, and he could convince Itachi that she was a worthwhile ally, an excellent addition to their group, then the older nin could have no objections.

The tents loomed large in front of them, cloth sides snapping in the buffeting wind. Sakura's heart was hammering against her ribcage, her throat dry.

"Don't look at his hands, either," Katsuro whispered hastily, remembering almost too late. But there was no more time. The canvas flap pulled back and Itachi himself stepped out. His face was just as cold as she remembered.

The elder Uchiha sibling nodded curtly at Katsuro then ducked back inside the large tent, never sparing a glance at the kunoichi. He was obviously just coming to look for them.

Sakura ignored the stab of panic and focused on Katsuro's words. She would do her best to evade Itachi's genjutsu and answer whatever questions she could.

'Within reason,' she thought nervously, stepping under the fabric flap ahead of Katsuro.

The doorway swished closed behind them, and it was as if all the color had been drained from the world. Off-white fabric draped from the top to form walls. Finely woven straw mats of the faintest yellow covered the floors, fitting together like a puzzle. Only a slim, dark brown table that doubled as Itachi's desk stood out, cutting a harsh line against the farthest wall.

Though the interior was larger than she expected, Sakura thought the colorless room was suffocating. But maybe that was the point, she thought darkly.

Itachi flicked a lazy finger toward the middle of the room, and Katsuro guided her over to kneel. Stealing a glance at him as she dropped down, the kunoichi was keenly aware that Katsuro would no longer make eye contact with her. Instead he stood beside her and faced his master.

Leaning casually against the desk, Itachi cleared his throat. Sakura turned instinctively at the sound, but remember Katsuro's warning at the last moment. She trained her eyes on the red cloud emblazoned across the front of his cloak. At the edge of her vision, she saw Itachi steeple his long fingers lazily in front of him.

Itachi was deathly still, except for the occasional tapping of his first two fingers together. Sakura drew in a long breath threw her nose, let it out slowly, and willed herself to wait it out. She didn't know why Katsuro told her not to look at his hands, but she would do as he said, no matter how many little movements Itachi made.

Finally, his deep voice broke the silence. "I am surprised your sensei hasn't come for you."

Sakura said nothing, but her eyes widened a fraction at his words. She had been surprised too. For Kakashi to leave her went against everything she knew about him.

"I know all about you, you see," Itachi continued pleasantly, letting his hands fall to his sides. His tone had changed, and he addressed her easily as if they were picking up their 'conversation' from days before. "You will find we have a lot in common."

Sakura felt queasy. Her thoughts had been clear on her face. She was giving too much away, and he was acting on it.

"I would like to know how some of my old compatriots are faring. Perhaps you could enlighten me," he voiced smoothly, letting the sentence hang in the air.

The kunoichi didn't move though. Something in what he said didn't ring true. He was reading her smallest movements, looking for a connection. He was a master of genjutsu — a _master_ — and she knew the easiest illusions were built on trust or spun around some common chord that connected the wielder and his victim.

Sakura's mind went into overdrive, analyzing what she'd experienced, even as she sat still as stone. He wasn't asking specific questions, so he must not be looking for a certain answer. She knew, as he would too, that she would be guarded about her team, especially about Sasuke.

But maybe he was watching for something else. Sakura cast back to her first encounter with him. He had goaded her till she behaved the way he wished, drawing her eyes to his face. He was testing her responses, looking for reactions.

She couldn't fathom why, but now she had something to go on, and she would thwart him as best as she could.

The kunoichi clamped down her jaw and stared hard at that blood red cloud. She wouldn't answer, and she wouldn't let any feeling float to the surface, no matter how intimidating he was.

Itachi didn't miss that change either.

"Konoha has fed you many lies, I see," he continued, the false pleasantness gone from his voice.

But Sakura didn't flinch.

"I wonder if you are as weak as your teammate, my younger brother, always stumbling, always failing. A disgrace to the Uchiha clan," he bit out. "Then again, no. You have been left behind. Konoha has deemed your usefulness at an end," he sneered at her. "They would never let Sasuke out of their sight now. He is a prize to be protected above all things, isn't he."

He paused, but she never wavered.

"Sasuke's life in return for his betrayal of the clan," Itachi continued, observing the girl closely. "I think that was the arrangement he had with Konoha."

Sakura had never heard that version of events, but it would do no good to trust in them. She didn't know much about Itachi, but she was certain he would go to great lengths to get what he wanted. And now he wanted something from her. Though inwardly chilled, Sakura put on an air of nonchalance, half-lowered her eyelids in boredom. She was about to add a yawn to her repertoire when Itachi snapped.

"It seems Konoha has gotten one thing right, though" he growled. She allowed herself a glance at the thin line of his mouth. It folded into a deep frown. "They have already seen you for what you are: A waste of their time. Just as you are a waste of mine."

Itachi pushed off from the desk, cloak swirling at his ankles, and returned to the other side of the table. He motioned to Katsuro as he walked.

Shoulders tightening minutely, the younger nin obliged and left her still kneeling on the rigid tatami mat.

Sakura had been so consumed with deflecting Itachi's manipulations she had forgotten about Katsuro. Her small satisfaction at thwarting Itachi washed away. Now she had a sinking feeling things had gone from bad to worse.

Itachi unrolled a scroll, his discomposure a thing of the past. He rolled it back, took up another, then began speaking in hushed tones to the brown-haired nin. Katsuro stood at the side of his desk, attentively listening. Sakura could see Katsuro's profile clearly, but his face was wiped clean of emotion.

"A shame," she finally heard Itachi say. "She really was the perfect choice."

A look of horror flickered across Katsuro's face, then was gone. Itachi hadn't noticed, and Sakura was sure if she had not been watching so closely she would have missed it too.

"I'll get what I can from her at any rate," Itachi said, then rolled up another scroll. "I understand the men gave you some trouble but you kept them in line?" The young rogue nodded silently. "Good. Well then, just leave the girl here, and you can go."

Katsuro turned on his heel, hooked his arm under the kunoichi's elbow and marched her out of the tent.

Without a word, he walked her to a tree, clamped a hand down on her shoulder, and pushed her back against the rough bark. He never looked at her.

"Katsu—" she began, but her throat closed around the word. She swallowed hard, unable to speak again. If he had heard her, then he ignored her and instead only focused on the task at hand.

Sakura let her head hang as he wrapped the sturdy rope around her midsection. Katsuro wasn't making her sit this time, which meant she probably wouldn't be out there long. A weak sob escaped.

She didn't know what his plan had been, but obviously it had failed. Sakura was to be left here to wait for Itachi.

Katsuro's kindness had run out.

She couldn't bear to look at him as he wrapped another length around. Instead, she dropped her head forward and let her hair swing out past both cheeks. That way, at least, she could hide her miserable tears. She was sick of crying, but she couldn't hold it back. They streaked down hot and shameful now.

This was where it would end for her. No teammates, no sensei, no village. Not even the kind-hearted rogue would dare cross Itachi. He was busy untying her hands in front, pulling one around the back of the tree. She slid the other around so he could tie it behind. There was no point in fighting her fate now.

She did not run when she had the chance. And now any hope of saving herself was gone.

Tears slicked her face and silently dripped off her chin. Another sob caught in her throat. She wanted to be brave, like a Konoha ninja should. Not like she felt now. She would never betray her village or her teammates, but she still didn't want to die.

Katsuro came back around in front to adjust some tie. His hands moved in to the line of her sight; Sakura could hardly bear to look at them. But she had the feeling that if it weren't for his strict orders, Katsuro would have helped her more.

If this was the end for her, then she wanted to thank him. His kindness had been her only lifeline.

Sakura lifted her head as he leaned toward her again, she swallowed and readied a brief thank you. But a glance at his serious face, his once-friendly brown eyes now turned hard and calculating, only brought more tears to her own.

"So this is where you leave me?" was all she could manage. She didn't expect an answer. Didn't expect anything, really. And that made his next movement an utter surprise.

Katsuro seemed to be leaning in to check the bindings again, but instead Sakura felt the curl of knuckles gently drag down one cheek, then the same hand switched to the other side. A warm palm spread over the curve of her cheek, and he thumbed away any remaining tears. Holding her face steady, hidden from view behind his shoulder, Katsuro drew his mouth even with her ear. His shallow breaths stirred the hairs at the edge of her face.

"No," Katsuro whispered, his voice deep and firm. "I'm not going to leave you."

A last feather-light stroke of his thumb and he pulled away.

Sakura was in shock, the soft touch coupled with his words drove her to seek out his face, his eyes, to verify the truth of what he was saying. And it was all there in the serious look he flashed at her. He wasn't giving up, and neither should she. He stood swiftly, leaving the tendrils of hair swinging around her neck, and turned to go.

Sakura was left there at the tree, warmth on her cheek receding, watching his back as he strode to the folded canvas door of the tent, flung it open, then disappeared inside.

Stalking back to the tent, Katsuro was beginning to see the whole picture. They had not trekked over the mountain because he had made a poor choice in abducting the girl, which he never believed in the first place.

No, Itachi had needed more time with her because he was going to twist her mind and destroy her life. He was going to apply a much more subtle genjutsu than a simple interrogation one, and return her to her village. Then, he could summon her whenever he needed her. She was to be a _spy_.

This was an entirely different kind of death sentence. Itachi would kill her when her usefulness was at an end, if her village didn't kill her first for being a traitor.

Katsuro reflected darkly that he had picked her because she appeared weak. Now, she was too strong to be of use. The irony was sickening.

The kunoichi didn't sit in that temple getting more and more desperate, as Itachi had planned. Katsuro took her on as his particular mission in life, teaching her to back up her natural resilience with a strong punch, among other things.

And Itachi was going to kill her for it.

He swore under his breath. _Why couldn't he have just picked the other one?_

Katsuro gripped the edge of the canvas. He had to do something to stop this. Perhaps if he appealed to Itachi, relied on his own responsibility in the mission... Katsuro didn't know if it would work, but it was the best option. He flung the canvas flap back and ducked inside.

"Katsuro," Itachi drawled inquisitively from behind the desk.

Katsuro crossed the mats quickly to stand in front of him. He came right to the point.

"What are you planning for her?" He kept his expression neutral. He knew Itachi would suspect something of him. Better not to hide, he thought, instead make his interest in her known.

Itachi merely raised an eyebrow. Katsuro knew the silence was calculated to make him uncomfortable, but he wasn't interested. He had a goal.

"If it is a genjutsu you are planning, let me ask her first. She trusts me, and I can get the information with minimal damage," Katsuro said, thinking that was enough reason without explanation. He squared his shoulders and waited for the verdict.

Itachi merely sat forward and rested his chin on a loosely curled hand. But his look of mild disinterest was a lie. Katsuro had seen him do this countless times with much bigger fish than him.

"And you think she'll answer your questions?" A bemused smile was ticking up a corner of his mouth. Black wisps danced at the sides of his face, and his eyes were half closed, observing him.

"Yes, she'll give you any information you need. She knows she's been abandoned," Katsuro said firmly.

But Itachi sat back silently, considering the young nin. He took up a brush from his desk and rolled it slowly between his thumb and forefinger. Katsuro slipped his hands behind his back and waited under the weight of that cold, black stare.

Itachi was nearly unreadable, but that didn't bother Katsuro. He wasn't playing a mind game. Katsuro knew he was special, and hopefully that could hold sway here. Itachi set the brush down finally and clasped his hands over the blank scroll.

"You really think that a Konoha nin would give up information that easily? Just ask?" Itachi said with a smirk. "You know nothing about your own village do you? Perhaps we've done too good a job covering your tracks," he laughed softly.

But the humor did not reach Katsuro. There was an arrogance to Itachi's words that always burned him. Even though Itachi had defected from Konoha, he still thought his village education was second-to-none. It always showed when dealing with outside nins.

Well, Katsuro was no outsider, but he was not brought up in that village. And sometimes when Itachi stressed how different Konoha nins were, how much tougher they were, it angered him to the core. He hated Konoha more than anything else.

"They need to be broken," Itachi said crisply. "You will learn."

The edge in his voice put Katsuro on alert. This was not going as he hoped, and Katsuro was beginning to think Itachi would not go along with him. He didn't want to have to negotiate with Itachi for her freedom, or stop him from harming her out of spite. Katsuro knew if he could just get her to open up—

Itachi stood suddenly, throwing Katsuro off balance. He wasn't sure what to expect next.

"But, by all means, let's bring her in and test this theory of yours," Itachi said, voice rising, arm flung wide in mock courtesy.

Itachi was not happy, but Katsuro didn't care. He had backed off her, and Katsuro meant to take advantage of that opening. The rogue nin nodded curtly and was out the door before Itachi could say another word.

Now if she just played her part, told him everything, demonstrated herself to be a worthy ally, he thought as he crunched across the forest floor, Itachi could have no objection to the request he was planning.

Katsuro made quick work of untying her, but never looked at her face or responded to any of her whispered questions. Even a glance might give something away if he was being observed.

Sakura kneeled gingerly again on the mat, but this time Katsuro had directed her to stop just inside the entrance to the tent, leaving a wide space between herself and Itachi. The Uchiha only looked daggers at her as he circled around the desk, returning to his previous position.

Face pale, Itachi leaned back against the table and crossed his arms over his chest. His long black ponytail snaked around his neck under the half-open cloak. He exuded an air of displeasure that was nearly palpable. But instead of beginning another round of mind games, he gave a sharp nod to Katsuro.

Katsuro began, formally asking her a few vague questions about where she was from, and whether she was a medic kunoichi.

If it was a stab at some sort of interrogation, she thought, then it was a laughable one. But Sakura answered him, knowing there was no new information there. They knew exactly what she did and where she was from. She didn't know what Katsuro was thinking in performing this charade.

Behind him, Itachi smirked at Katsuro's steady questions. Apparently, he saw through this act too.

But his questions turned more specific, first about her, then about her teammates. She answered as to her age and rank, but Katsuro interrupted her.

"Really? Only a genin?" Katsuro said in surprise, his false display forgotten.

Itachi didn't miss the slip. With predatory control, he snapped his eyes to the younger nin, never moving a muscle. Sakura could only nod nervously. Itachi's flat, black eyes narrowed to slits, watching them both closely now. This was a dangerous game Katsuro was playing, she thought.

But Katsuro remembered himself and continued.

In rapid-fire succession, he asked about her mission, her teammates, their ranks and skills, but to each question Sakura only shook her head, lips in a thin line, worried expression deepening with each one.

Katsuro was persistent, closing in on her, driving up the tension with each step he took, but there was no way she would answer those questions.

'What was he thinking? That I would just give them up?' she thought with another shake of her head.

Itachi was no longer her primary concern. She couldn't even see him anymore. Katsuro was standing in front of her, hands on his hips. He was angry now, it was written across his face.

Safely blocked from Itachi's view, Sakura didn't make any attempt to hide her growing frustration with Katsuro, etiher. She had thought he would get her out of this somehow, not be the one interrogating her.

Shifting his feet, letting his hands relax at his sides, Katsuro changed tack. Maybe if he tried reason with her she would open up, he thought.

"You know, they've not come for you, so you can have no fear in telling us anything," he said easily. "If they thought you had information worth guarding then they'd be here for you. But they've never come. Not a single sign. So it's all ok," Katsuro smiled. "There's no reason to withhold anything from us now." He fanned an arm out to include the Uchiha, but made the mistake of glancing back. Itachi's face was darkening by the second.

Katsuro turned back and repeated the questions again. But this time she turned her face away and set her chin, fixing her sightline on the pale tent wall. She was blocking out both him and Itachi out now.

Katsuro was getting nowhere — Itachi cleared his throat quietly behind him — and he was running out of time.

Closing the distance between them, Katsuro squatted quickly down in front of her, throwing caution to the wind. Hidden from view, Katsuro's face was a mix of angry desperation. She glanced at him once, but turned her head away again.

"Listen to me," he whispered furiously. "if you don't answer me willingly, then he'll get what he wants by force. And it will probably kill you." Only the kunoichi's throat fluttered from a reflexive swallow, but there was no other movement. It was as if he hadn't even spoken at all.

"Your teammates don't care about you. They've never seen your true worth. And that village has only thrown you away. You don't have to die for them," he pleaded.

If something he'd said struck a chord, then he would never know. She set her mouth in a grim frown and shut her eyes.

Her stubbornness made him snap.

"How can you protect them?" he hissed, rocking forward onto the balls of his feet. "If we were on a team, I'd never treat you the way they've treated you. I'd never give up on you." His words tumbled out quickly, but they were honest. He meant it. He'd go to any lengths now, and he was desperate enough to tell her. He just hoped Itachi didn't hear him.

At that, Sakura's determined expression softened, and she turned her face back to his. They were mere inches apart now, and she could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

A corner of her mouth pulled up into a wistful smile.

"No, you probably wouldn't," she said quietly. To this he smiled in return.

"And if we were on a team, I wouldn't give you up, either," she said honestly back.

She'd never felt that way about her own teammates. But now she understood what Kakashi-sensei had gone on about — bonds.

Sasuke and Sai were still relying on her, although they would never know it. And if Katsuro was on her team there would be no question she'd be right here fighting for him too. Something clicked inside. She steeled her resolve.

The information she had amounted to nothing. Katsuro was right, it was hardly worth dying for. And though she couldn't deny that the idea of meeting death at Itachi's hands was terrifying, she knew now with deep certainty she would never give up information against a fellow Konoha nin.

Katsuro's last comment made the difference. Teammates were for protecting. Now she knew what Kakashi meant.

"Thank you, Katsuro," she said quietly, "for everything."

Confusion skittered across his face. Katsuro rocked back on his heels in disbelief, but it quickly turned to fury.

"You still won't give them up?" he exploded.

Behind him, Itachi snorted in disdain. Katsuro knew what he was thinking, Konoha ninja are unyielding and have to be broken. She had overthrown everything and proved Itachi right.

But Katsuro wasn't letting go yet.

"No!" he said loudly. He stood, hands on hips, and glared fiercely at her. She watched him openly, then mirrored his expression with a determined look of her own.

"I won't let you do this—" he said, eyes narrowed and fingers digging in, but a decisive voice from behind cut him off.

"That's enough" Itachi said firmly. "You're through with this dalliance, Katsuro."

But Katsuro didn't move. Still glaring at the frustrating kunoichi, he kept his back to his master.

She had him caught in the middle, just like on the road. But here, she was the one who needed protecting, not a couple of children. If he didn't intervene, she would be killed. That was a certainty. He didn't know how he could persuade Itachi to let her stay with him after this. But he knew now that he was the only one who could make the difference.

Woven mats creaked together. Itachi's steps shattered the stillness and broke the tableau. Katsuro turned on his heel to face him. Itachi merely stopped in place, but Katsuro wasn't yielding.

The scene was not lost upon Itachi. Standing defiantly, Katsuro's hands in tight fists at his sides and a hard look on his face, the young nin literally blocked his way to the girl.

"She's my responsibility, isn't she?" Katsuro challenged. A look of mild surprise crept across Itachi's face.

He crossed back to the older nin and said firmly, "I'll see this through. Tell me what you need to know, and I'll get the information for you."

Itachi looked past the hard-faced young man to the wide-eyed girl kneeling on the mat. Katsuro had formed some sort of attachment to her, that much was clear.

"Yes. She is your responsibility, isn't she," Itachi said slowly, eyes narrowed. He hesitated, but he saw no reason to stop Katsuro. "Let's just hope you set your traps a little more wisely than this pathetic display."

Katsuro said nothing, just waited for him finish.

"I need to know about Sasuke," Itachi said tightly. "About his sharingan, about his skill level and about any jutsus he knows. Find out where he is living and what his day is like. I want to know every last detail of his miserable life. Any small scrap may prove useful in the future."

"Hai," Katsuro said, and immediately turned to leave.

If the young rogue was surprised that Itachi agreed so quickly, then he didn't let on. Katsuro quickly collected the girl and pushed her through the door.

Itachi returned to his work, swept the long arms of his cloak back and prepared to go over another scroll, but his thoughts turned to his young ward. Katsuro had an attachment to the girl, it was very clear. And Itachi knew those were easiest weaknesses to manipulate.

It suited him to let Katsuro pull out whatever information he could from the kunoichi. Saved him the trouble.

'But when he's done,' thought Itachi darkly, 'I'll teach him a lesson about attachments he won't forget.'

* * *

Fingers tightly squeezed around her elbow, they quick-stepped away from the tents and back down into the woods along the riverside, tromping over brush and snapping driftwood lodged among the trees as they went. Finally they stopped at a small clearing between a few fallen trees. Sakura could see the a cluster of rocks, half buried in dirt apparently displaced from the last time the river flooded its banks. She remembered what he'd said about floods through their last camp. It was obviously to hide their tracks.

He silently unfastened the bindings in the front of her, then tied her hands together behind a tree standing at the edge of the makeshift campsite.

"I'll be back," he said quietly.

"I—," she began, but he didn't want to hear it. He turned and left before she could get anything else out. It didn't matter, she thought resignedly, there was nothing to say. Only the need to explain herself nagged at her. But even that was pointless.

They were both in over their heads now, she thought, watching him retreat over a fallen log. His cloak draped over the tree as he cleared it, and slipped off after him a soft zip. Then he disappeared into the thicket without another sound.

Whatever his plan was, it didn't happen. And now Katsuro was having to do something instead of Itachi. Or rather, do something _to her_ in Itachi's place.

If she had to guess, then genjutsu or torture were at the top of the list. But as twigs snapped in the direction Katsuro had recently left by, she saw with surprise he was returning with two bowls in his hand. Though the list wasn't long, dinner was definitely not on it.

He set both bowls down on a flat rock, untied her, but left the wrapping still wound up one arm. After shedding their wretched cloaks, Katsuro shoved a bowl into her hands and both sat down heavily on a fallen tree.

Hungrier than she thought, and at a lack of words to say to the boy next to her, Sakura silently chewed through the strange, grey meat. There was a second piece in her bowl, and she thought maybe more rations meant a more permanent camp until she looked over at Katsuro's untouched food. It was just rice, no meat.

Had he given her his portion, she thought with dismay. She wouldn't accept it though, she knew he was just as hungry as she was.

Sakura picked up the meat between her chopsticks and meant to pass it back into his bowl. "Here…. Don't you need to eat too?"

But he shied her away with his hand, putting the untouched bowl on the other side of him.

"Not hungry," he said distractedly. But Sakura thought he was lying. He had many moods, but 'not hungry' was not one of them.

Maybe this was her last meal, she thought morbidly as she took another bite.

Sakura knew Katsuro had a plan, and that somehow she had thwarted it. But she would never willingly betray her village, no matter how desperate the situation seemed. Maybe that's just a fundamental difference between a rogue nin and a village one, she thought.

But it didn't stop her from being grateful to him. She was working out something to say, grinding through the tough meat, and simply wasn't paying attention to him. If she had been looking closer she may have noticed that Katsuro was working out something of an entirely different sort.

Katsuro's stomach was in a knot. He knew this was his only chance to work over an interrogation genjutsu on her, but he was at a loss as to how to initiate it. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

Some of the key components for success were already out the window. He had to be detached from her to seamlessly begin it, and she had to be open enough for the jutsu to take hold and be effective. The element of surprise was often the easiest way to ensure success, but he'd lost that with her. And a safe emotional distance from her was a thing of the past. He was sure even Itachi saw it, he thought, tightening his fist.

"Katsuro," the kunoichi said, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up at her as she placed the bowl of food to the side. She studied his whole face. "If it were you, I would protect you too."

Katsuro blinked, mouth parted just slightly as he worked over her words. He looked as if someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"You mean, if we were on a team together, and someone asked you to give up information about me," he said slowly, the tightness at the corners of his eye softening.

"Yeah," she said simply. The strange half-hurt expression made him look more like a lost kid than a rogue ninja, and the sympathetic tug she felt was so strong she had to look away.

Her wavering brought Katsuro back to reality. This may be his only chance, he thought grimly.

Life seemed to be one cruel twist after another, he thought. That she would protect him. It was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. And now he had to use it as his opening for a genjutsu. He hated to do it.

But Katsuro felt the same as she did, he would do whatever he had to to protect her. And right now, that meant pulling out enough information to keep Itachi at bay.

"Like teammates?" he said warmly. She looked back at him, and Katsuro smiled encouragingly, making sure to catch her eyes. The kunoichi returned a small smile, curled her hair behind her ears, and meant to turn away again out of embarrassment, but Katsuro stopped her. "What if I were from your village, on your team?"

He laid a hand on her arm and scooted closer, the coarse fabric of his pants brushing up against her bare knee. Looking deeper into her eyes, Katsuro let the warm threads of their chakra intermingle. Their surroundings began to ebb.

"Tell me," he said softly. "What would our day be like? How would it start? Would we train in the morning? Then get lunch together?" His voice was warm, and the happy crinkle at the corners of his eyes had returned. The slight pressure on her arm was reassuring.

"It would be great," she said, giving in to the idea with a sigh, letting the easiness of it all wash over her.

"Tell me about it," he said, nodding and smiling back. He wondered if the genjutsu had completely taken hold yet, if she felt its warm, comforting effects. He wondered darkly if she suspected it of him.

But she smiled brilliantly in return, and Katsuro was so close he was distracted momentarily by the apricot-colored freckles dotted across the tops of her normally pale cheeks. The only happy result of two days in the sun, he thought, returning his own wistful smile. She blinked once, lashes curling against her skin, before fixing those bottomless green eyes on his face again.

He was going to ask another leading question, but her gaze pinned him. When he'd first seen her eyes, he dismissed the pleasant leaf-green color as different, but not unusual. Now, like everything else about her, he realized there was so much more.

Close enough to see the striations of color, dark and light greens fusing together, Katsuro realized that there was a sparkling quality there that had been missing. Her smile brought a light to her eyes.

He'd first recognized it at the temple, the carefree happiness she exuded, and it made all the difference. Having lived without it for a few days, he knew now he hated to see her eyes dim in sadness.

Katsuro frowned a little to himself. The color was maybe not just that of a single leaf but the whole canopy of a tree, only brought to life by the sunlight behind it. That is, if he had to try to describe it, he told himself.

The kunoichi mirrored his expression, tilting her head with a small, puzzled frown of her own, and Katsuro shook himself of the reverie.

"So, what would it be like if I were in Konoha?" he continued warmly. "Would your teammates like me?"

She smiled fully back at him and began to speak. Katsuro didn't even have to check…the illusion had knit around them completely.

* * *

_**Chapter 13** — Cruel Choice_

_"Tell me how you spell your first name again?"_

_To this she shook her head confusedly, he had a moment of panic that the jutsu had somehow broken but he alone was still in it._

_"Who doesn't know how to spell Sakura?"_

_"Sakura?"_

_"My name?"_

_"Cherry blossom?" he said, then repeated incredulously, "Your name's 'cherry blossom?'"_

_She took his comment to mean he saw her as she often reflected on herself. "Not very befitting of a shinobi, huh."_

_"No," then refocused intently at her face, "no, it's perfect."_

* * *

_"Did you think Konoha would just let you keep her, like a pet?" Itachi said with a harsh laugh._

_"What will happen to her," Katsuro said, ignoring his goading._

_"I've never seen this side of you before Katsuro," the Uchiha rejoined, smirking._

_The young rogue knew it was a trap, but he was in too deep to turn back now._

_"Are you going to kill her?" Katsuro ground out._

_Itachi glared hard at him. Was he this taken with the girl, that he would offer to keep her in camp? An enemy nin, no less? He wouldn't even entertain the thought. Katsuro needed to be taught a lesson._

_"No. You are." Itachi said ruthlessly, holding out his kunai._


	13. Illusions

Genjutsus were difficult things to manage and not Katsuro's specialty. But gauging from the pink bloom spreading across the kunoichi's cheeks, he'd pulled this one off well enough.

She kicked her legs gently beside him, blissfully unaware of their dismal surroundings.

Not that the inner-workings of the genjutsu would have held any interest for her anyway. Katsuro seemed to be the only one who found the swirling of a victim's fears or desires into the fabric of an illusion to be a fascinating subject.

Most times, it was a single aspect that revealed itself through the cottoning fog. A place of tragedy came through in dark, jagged shards. Like seeing a reflection in a shattered window. But a happier memory would appear fully-formed behind the veil. Most often, it was the person's childhood home. Katsuro made sure never to look at those.

But this illusion was completely different.

A clean, encompassing glow swept over the damp riverbed campsite, spreading outward from where the pair sat on the fallen tree. The shapes were still there, or at least the memory of land, the log and the grey fire circle, but the rest disappeared beneath a shimmery golden haze.

No insight to her life came sailing out of the mist. Instead they were both surrounded by a pleasant feeling. As if that cool green light of her healing chakra had suddenly turned warm.

Perhaps it was because the extent of his interrogation jutsu had been on old men or petty criminals. Or perhaps this was the result of working over a genjutsu on a girl who had little experience with the hardships of life. But then again, maybe she was destined to always be surprising him.

Within the space of the genjutsu, Katsuro knew there was safety. Outside, the situation may be terrifying, but inside this illusion it was as comfortable as that tiny fire lit room at the temple.

He blew out a satisfied breath. Colors wafted and shifted around them in the golden light, as if it was a dancing flame. He smiled. The echo of that room must be his contribution to this unusual, embracing illusion.

Katusuro began. With a friendly smile, he took his time, revisited their previous conversations and gently guided her to fill in more information. If he worked it right, then she'd have no memory of this at all. It would just blur together with her dreams.

But just as he congratulated himself on his success, her smile sagged and her swinging legs stilled.

"I don't think I should be telling you these things," she mumbled. Slim fingers smoothed over the new frown lines on her forehead, as if trying to remember something she'd forgotten, something dreadfully important.

Katsuro was surprised. It was a testament to her strong will that she could still keep a shred of reason while fully dipped in a genjutsu.

"Don't worry," he said, voice soothing. "You aren't telling me anything I didn't already know."

She looked up with relief. "Really?"

"Of course," he smiled back, lying.

And with that content look returned, she went back to swinging her legs. The radiant smile she shot at him only made him feel worse about having to manipulate her. But it had to be done. This was the only way to appease Itachi and guarantee her safety.

Best not to think too much about it, he told himself before circling back to an earlier conversation to verify some names.

"So one of my favorite stories is when you were at the academy and the big one" — "Choji," she corrected — "right, when Choji blew up at the other kid in class who called him fat. You know, the dog boy, what was his name again?"

"Oh, Kiba," she supplied.

"Right, Kiba," Katsuro intoned smoothly.

And so went the interrogation. What she believed was an innocent conversation, no different from the many they'd had in the temple, was really a careful culling of information. He was skimming the surface, attaching names to all the stories she'd told him, and occasionally dipping deeper for specific details about Sasuke, his prime target.

He had to admit he was curious about her teammate. Katsuro's help in the very delicate matter concerning his younger brother was the only mission Itachi had charged him with in exchange for freeing him from Konoha. Katsuro had trained for it, bled for it, undergone countless missions and crushing jutsus just to be able to withstand some of the punishing blows that an "Uchiha" could deliver.

But the kunoichi's experiences gave Katsuro a real reason to hate him.

The younger Uchiha was always either ignoring her or insulting her. And then he tried to get her thrown off their team. She related that story in full, even down to the mess she'd made of their kage's office.

Katsuro laughed till his side hurt at that story, and she beamed back at him, obviously pleased at his approval of what everyone else had called a childish temper tantrum. But another recollection turned her pensive.

"Sasuke was a precocious as a child. All the girls in the academy had crushes on him," she muttered, then hurriedly added, "but now I think all the attention might have gone to his head."

She frowned and tapped her chin. "I don't think many people see how he really is. But as he's gotten older he's only grown colder and more arrogant," she said, then shrugged. "He has no friends, not even Sai."

Katsuro mulled what she'd said. If he was that blustering to everyone, then the chances were that he actually wasn't as powerful as Itachi expected.

Though Itachi had called his sibling weak and cowardly, Katsuro just assumed it to be a lie. Probably just a message planted in the girl if, in fact, he did plan on sending her back. If Katsuro had to guess, Itachi's goal was to make sure his traitorous younger brother knew he would never be strong in his older brother's eyes, no matter how much training he had.

Katsuro leaned closer to her, as if sharing a secret.

"He's really not that great is he," he whispered. "It's all just an act?"

"Oh no! He was always the best in our class, and I know he's better than a lot of chunins and maybe even a few jonins." The kunoichi shook her head slowly. "I think he's more powerful than he lets on. But he doesn't get along with anyone. And he trains alone." She paused before adding quietly, "I don't think he trusts anyone, which is understandable, I guess."

Katsuro was going to ask about his skill level, they one thing Itachi cared about most, when the girl continued.

"You know, I always get the feeling he thinks he's better than everyone else. That the academy was beneath him, being on a team was a waste of his time." Her face scrunched in momentary anger. "And I know he thinks I shouldn't be a ninja at all. He's told me that enough times." She stopped herself with a laugh. "Like there was this one time—"

She continued speaking, moving on to a more humorous story about her team's struggles. Her injured feelings were swept away by the buoying genjutsu.

But Katsuro was left behind, unhearing. Her words dredged up long-buried memories. Another voice swirled around him now.

"You? You'll never be a ninja," a cruel male voice echoed from his past.

Unbidden, images flashed through Katsuro's mind of a ruthless shinobi, a sun-baked road, a wide-eyed boy on the steps of an orphanage. The men were walking by, passing so close he could hear their kunai rattling in their pouches. Yellow dust blew off the road in thick clouds. It clung to his clothes and tried to choke the air out of his lungs.

"You're the demon container. Didn't you know? They'd never let trash like you be a ninja," a silver-haired man sneered. He laughed, taunted, then called back over his shoulder before disappearing into the suffocating haze, "Any day now will be your last, demon." His last words cut the deepest.

Katsuro swallowed reflexively. He hadn't thought of that awful day in years. It was still there though — the cold laughter, the wretched dust, the realization and heartache — all lingering just below the surface.

But just as suddenly as the memory crashed down on him, it was gone, driven away by the tinkling laugh in his ear, the warm hand pressed on his arm.

The kunoichi laughed again, and Katsuro was brought back to the present. He blinked quietly at the pink haired girl, then roused himself to laugh weakly with her, though he'd not heard a word of her story.

He had survived that hopeless time, he reassured himself. Itachi had seen to that. But the memory was so real, so unsettling, he raked a hand through his unruly hair just to make sure. When her attention shifted, he twisted his finger around a lock on his forehead and nearly crossed his eyes trying to look at it.

'Still brown,' he thought with a relieved sigh, and let the now-familiar hair fall back into its disheveled place.

The girl beside him took no notice, content instead to sit in companionable silence.

Katsuro blew out another steadying breath and tried to refocus on his task. If he had never crossed paths with this kunoichi he would have thought that all Konoha ninjas were the same as those men. But she, it seemed, was the exception.

This girl shook his beliefs about that wretched village to the core. And if he discovered that Sasuke was like her, someone totally different than what he'd been led to believe, then it was going to be hard to fulfill his mission.

But thankfully, Sasuke wasn't like her at all. Sasuke had betrayed Itachi, led to the massacre of his clan, and now was only source of pain to the girl beside him. The younger Uchiha hated her, thwarted her and had abandoned her.

'No,' he thought unflinchingly, 'killing Sasuke Uchiha is going to be a pleasure.'

And that conviction made Katsuro more resolved than ever to carve out a place for her within his group. She never had to go back to that village again. If Itachi could save him, then he could save her.

Katsuro kicked his legs out in front of him comfortably, imagining it. They would make a brilliant team. The encounter with Deidara and Sasori had shown him that. She was an exceptional ninja, reading the situation and working with him to provide a unified front in the face of an unknown opponent. She was a fighter too, just like him, he thought with a low laugh.

Remembering himself, Katsuro straightened and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck self-consciously. The kunoichi tucked a swinging lock of hair back behind her ear and smiled pleasantly at him.

The genjutsu. He'd forgotten. It was his turn to have slightly red cheeks. Her inattentive silence should have been a warning sign their time was running out. But he wasn't ready to break the spell just quite yet….

Katsuro cleared his throat and let his wandering thoughts lead the next question.

"So, if your teammates are so awful — the jerk and the robot — then why do you want to go back?"

She smirked at his names for them, but tipped her head in question. "It's my home. Wouldn't you want to go back to your home too?"

Katsuro fumbled for an answer, realizing belatedly that he should have stuck to fact-gathering.

"No," he finally managed to say. "The people from my home were very cruel. I left that place behind years ago." It was the simple line he had told her before, all explanation and no information.

"Why? Who could ever do that to you?"

Her eyes were so clear and scanning his face so earnestly that he forgot himself.

He forgot the threats, the warnings, the _knowledge_ that one slip up, revealing any detail about himself, to anyone, ever, would shine like a torch in the night. It would point the way to where he was and lead to certain death at the hands of his captors.

Her kind words had nothing to do with the menacing power trapped inside him, the only thing which he'd ever been measured by. Her concern was for him, and him alone. She saw him as he was.

Well, _almost_.

She saw him as the kid he was presented to be. And he found that, amazingly, he wanted to be that kid. Just for a little while. He wanted bask in her sympathy and rail against the unfairness of it all. Step away from the burden of power. Just for a moment.

She had nothing to gain from him and was offering only her concern. He knew it was sincere. The pull was too much to resist.

Perhaps he could tell her something. Just a little. The thought of it was like opening a window on a closed room. It was a shaft of light in the darkness….

She waited beside him, sweet concern clear on her face.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to clear the distracting thoughts. He knew what Itachi had said: Konoha was always looking for him, they would go to any length to get their ultimate weapon back. He should never, ever leave a trace.

But Katsuro also knew he was safe within the genjutsu. She would remember none of this. And if she did, it would be hard to discern it from broken fragments of a dream.

However the genjutsu itself would live in her memory, a lingering signpost that someone else was there. If someone was looking for wisp of information, scanning her thoughts for something specifically related to him and what he contained, then anything he revealed might lead them right to him.

But perhaps he could tell her without giving away any information at all.

"I was special...I mean was able to..." Katsuro stopped, swallowed hard, then started again. "I was to be a tool...like all ninja, I mean...but for battle, you know?

"Oh," she said, confused.

He knew he wasn't making much sense. Maybe he could tell her just a little more. He lowered his voice and dropped his face very close to hers, finding it hard to just string the words together. Things he'd not told anyone since that dark night when Itachi had finally found him, abandoned and alone, on the empty playground of the orphanage.

He blew out a breath and willed the words to come.

"I was to be kept alive only as long I was needed," he said softly. "Then I was to be killed."

Silence stretched out between them. The kunoichi opened and closed her mouth a few times, beginning to ask something, but rethinking it. She settled into a puzzled frown.

But for Katsuro, doubt slipped in, chipping away at his reasoning. _Why did he even want to tell her? This was beyond dangerous. Had he lost his mind?_

He laughed wryly at a thought that he would initiate the genjutsu and somehow _she_ would end up asking him uncomfortable questions. 'Just typical,' he thought. He should've expected as much by now.

"I'm so sorry, I know some places are awful," she said softly, cutting across his thoughts. "But my village isn't like that at all. You would like it a lot."

Katsuro stiffened. Of course she wouldn't understand, but her small smile just riled him, made him want to yell back at her, tell her everything. Prove her wrong and make her explain her village's actions.

The golden haze thinned around them, and the dark outlines of the forest began to take shape. Flecks of peeling bark surfaced beside his thigh as the tree they sat on came into clearer view.

He had forgotten about the genjutsu, _again!_ Katsuro ignored the irrational anger bearing down on him and instead focused on reining in the illusion.

He understood what was happening now. They had both been under for too long, and it was clouding his judgement. This would be exhaust them tomorrow. He had to finish swiftly.

Beside him, the girl's green eyes were wide with worry, the color in her face washing out. She might have caught a sense of the genjutsu, Katsuro thought, but he couldn't let her out of it yet. If the illusion around them burst like a bubble, then there was a chance she would remember everything. He had to ease her into sleep, then break the jutsu. He just hoped he could do it before either of them passed out.

Scrambling to draw her back in, Katsuro quickly cast around for anything else to talk about. Something they hadn't covered...

"Hey, you said you have a best friend, right," he asked, shooting her a bright, false smile. "What team is she on?"

The distraction worked instantly.

"Ino," she said and rolled her eyes. "She's on Team 8 with Shikamaru and Choji."

But Katsuro just blinked at her.

"Remember, the smart one and the big one? Yeah, well I guess she'd be the blonde one then!" She laughed at herself for coming up with a nickname. "I think you would like them a lot. There is also—"

"You're _friend?_ " Katsuro realized her slip. "Oh, uh… _that_ Ino!"

She had simply given her best friend's name as her own all those days ago. He had to think fast.

"You know...I always thought she was related to you," he said with a laugh, but continued watching her closely.

"No!" she said, swatting the air as if he should already know that detail. "Her family runs the Yamanaka flower shop."

"Oh right. And your name's not Yamanaka," Katsuro replied with a scoff.

"No way! It's Haruno, of course!"

"Of course," Katsuro covered smoothly. "And tell me again how to spell your first name?"

But to this request the girl only shook her head confusedly. Katsuro had a moment of panic that the genjutsu had somehow broken but he alone was still in it.

"Who doesn't know how to spell Sakura?"

"Sakura?" he echoed, face slack.

"My name," she said, drawling it like a petulant child.

"Cherry blossom?" he said incredulously. "Your name's cherry blossom?" He was completely thrown and just sat blinking at her.

She frowned in misunderstanding. "Not very befitting of a ninja, huh," she muttered, tucking a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

"No," Katsuro said breathily. He took in her whole face as if he'd never really seen it. "No. It's perfect."

And it was. _She_ was. He'd never met anyone like her, never knew someone like her even existed. And here she was. Open and unaffected, kind and protective, funny and fearless, she could kill you in open combat...and she was named after cherry blossoms.

He studied her face again, his mouth set in a satisfied half-smile, eyes soft. The tightness he'd felt across his chest before returned, but this time it wasn't borne of anger. This was easy and expectant, like he'd been holding his breath. _Sakura,_ he thought, breathing out. A pleasant warmth rushed in, his fingertips tingled.

He'd created this illusion for her, but he was certain it was doing things to him too. Katsuro tipped his head to get a better look at her eyes, memorize them. If this feeling was part of the genjutsu, then he didn't want to forget.

She couldn't hold his gaze. She turned away, curling back another lock of hair that was swaying slightly against her neck. The faint glow on her cheeks had turned into a real blush. She involuntarily let out a small yawn.

At this, Katsuro knew their time was up. He would endanger them both to stay under any longer.

"Sakura," he said her name again, just to have the pleasure of hearing it aloud. "And Ino is your best friend," he repeated, pleased with himself.

Screw the information about Itachi's younger brother. Just finding out her name made the whole genjutsu worth it.

Another thought occurred, and he couldn't resist it. Katsuro drew a little closer to her, eyes twinkling and voice soft.

"Hey Sakura-chan, do you have a boyfriend back home?" Even exhaustion couldn't dampen his grin.

She laughed at his teasing, shaking her head lightly, but her smile slipped at some unwelcome memory.

"There was someone I used to like," she said.

Katsuro frowned too, guessing it was the source of all their troubles right now: Sasuke.

A small sigh turned into another yawn, before she drowsily added, "but I don't have a boyfriend."

Katsuro's smile returned.

"Good," he said softly, and closed the small gap between them. Her eyelids were heavy, and she leaned toward him comfortably.

"Just rest now, ok?"

"M'kay" she slurred, eyes already closed. Her head dropped easily onto Katsuro's shoulder.

Extending one arm across her abdomen to stop her from falling forward off the log, Katsuro raised his free hand and silently released the jutsu.

The effect for both was like dropping back to Earth. Her weight was fully pressed against his arm, and she was already unconscious. But Katsuro had no such luxury. His limbs were heavy and tired, and his head ached. But he had to get them both into a comfortable position before they collapsed off the old log.

The ground beneath them was more mud than dirt, but it would have to do. He had not planned the genjutsu well, but in the end he'd gotten more than he'd ever thought possible.

The kunoichi's head slid forward off his shoulder. He was fading fast too. He had to hurry if he wanted to get this done on his own chakra, and he was at the dregs.

Katsuro didn't want to be forced to borrow from that malevolent energy lurking just below the surface. Sometimes it made him feel good, like he could destroy anything. Then other times it just felt like it was going to burn him alive. Katsuro had a sinking feeling that if he tried to borrow chakra tonight, he'd be torched from the inside out. And he couldn't risk it. He needed to be fully aware in the morning to make his report — and request — to Itachi. Not writhing from the aftereffects of channeling a demon's chakra through his veins.

Resolved, Katsuro used his last burst of energy to pivot down onto his knee in front of the kunoichi. Taking advantage of the forward momentum, he let her slump against his shoulder, hooked his arm around her to keep her from sliding off, then leaned down with her until she was flat against the ground.

Katsuro's thoughts were beginning to muddle. Fighting to keep his eyes open, he dislodged his arm from behind her unmoving back, sat back up on his knees, then pushed himself backwards away from the tree. He didn't care where he landed, only that he fall clear of Sakura.

Sakura...

The bare threads of thought fell away from him, slipping by like those pale petals her name conjured up. To protect her, to keep her alive, that was enough...if he could just do that...

He was out before his body hit the forest floor.


	14. Cruel Choice

Gold light and green shadows dappled in and out of focus. Katsuro rubbed his tired eyes. Flinging an arm up to block the afternoon sunlight, he twisted his head for a better look around. But the quick movement set the world spinning.

Katsuro squeezed his eyes shut, dug his fingers back into the cool black earth and grit his teeth against the dizziness. It was a sure sign of just how far he let that genjutsu go. Even though he knew it was a thin illusion, it lasted too long to be safe. She must really be feeling the effects of it, he thought.

"Sakura," he breathed out her name.

The nausea lulled. Katsuro rolled his head and tried to focus his eyes, but he still couldn't find her. It was still entirely too soon to be moving—

Disorientation washed over him again. Katsuro blew a long, low breath, closed his eyes, and cursed himself again for going so deep in the gentjutsu. The queasy feeling sharpened. Beads of sweat pricked his upper lip and forehead. This time it was a full two minutes before the pounding in his ears and the bile in his throat finally abated. Blinking up at the trees, feeling better though still light-headed, Katsuro wiped a sleeve down his face and sat up slowly.

Sakura was gone, as was any trace of her. Both their bowls and cloaks were conspicuously absent. It was clear that Itachi had collected her. Katsuro had a sinking feeling now that had nothing to do with the genjutsu.

Wherever she was, he hoped she was in worse shape than he was. Then Itachi would be forced to wait until she came around before he could apply another genjutsu.

It was foolish to worry, he told himself. If he was this sick, then she was probably out like a light.

Katsuro clambered to his feet, swaying dangerously for a moment. But once he had his bearings enough to walk, he set off in the direction of Itachi's tents.

By the time he was wrapping his fingers around the canvas flap, Katsuro had recovered all his faculties. He stopped, listening hard for her voice, a movement, or any out-of-place sounds that would give him a clue as to what he would find. But nothing reached his ears. Maybe she's not there, he thought, pulling back the fabric.

But before he'd even stepped through the door he'd found her. Just inside the tent two scuffed black boots lay flat against the woven mat. The kunoichi was on her side, hands bound in front of her. He was right, she'd never even woken up.

Katsuro pushed away his relief. She wasn't out of danger yet. First he had to deliver the information about Sasuke. Then he would make his case for her.

"Katsuro," Itachi said expectantly, not bothering to look up from his work.

Wasting no time, Katsuro crossed the room to stand in front of the desk. The elder Uchiha sat back and listened neutrally to the report. Katsuro told him everything about his younger brother: The sharingan had been activated, he had mastered many high level jutsus, and he was the most accomplished shinobi of their grade. But everything else, all the rest she'd told him, he kept to himself.

'He's not interested in her anymore,' Katsuro thought, justifying the rebellious feeling he got from withholding information.

"Nothing I didn't already know," Itachi sighed resignedly. "Although it's nice to have verification that things are still moving in the right direction." He picked up an out-of-place kunai that had been left on the desk and examined the blade.

"However, her only value to me was in her return to the village," Itachi rejoined, letting the sentence hang in the air.

Katsuro thought the silence was calculated. He chose his next words carefully.

"Konoha has abandoned her," Katsuro said without inflection.

"Oh no, they will come for her." Itachi countered. "And I was counting on that fact. Once the dust settles in Konoha, it's only a matter of time." Katsuro's brow crinkled for a moment. He was missing something.

"But now," the Uchiha sighed again, "she's just a liability. And that puts us all in danger." He laid the kunai back down in front of him, handle out, and reached for another scroll.

Katsuro spared a fleeting thought at the irony of it all. Hadn't he said the same thing once? It seemed so long ago.

But something else was going on here.

Itachi wanted more out of this than a simple progress report. The plan to send her back as a spy had been carefully guarded. And the misleading things Itachi had said about his brother, things which were clearly untrue...none of it added up.

And then there was the problem of her village…. Itachi believed they would come for her, but that it was _a fact_? The only fact was that they hadn't, Katsuro thought wryly. Not a single, solitary sign. But Itachi was sure they would come and had worked it into this plan. The troubling thing to Katsuro was that doing so ran counter to everything he knew of Konoha.

He knew the village would drop her at the slightest problem. They would only use her as a means to an end. It had been that way with him, hadn't it? And though he had never had any other dealing with Konoha since the day he left, Itachi always told him it was village policy to abandon those who could not keep up.

But now, Itachi seemed to believe otherwise. Either Katsuro had grossly underestimated his former village or, he thought with a measure of disbelief, Itachi had given him faulty information.

Whatever was going on, this was something very important to Itachi, and he was carefully covering his tracks, even from Katsuro.

The shuffling of papers drew his attention. In front of him, Itachi perused another document. Katsuro narrowed his eyes a fraction, suddenly aware that the older nin had not dismissed him. This too was out of the ordinary. Itachi was waiting for something.

A chill ran up the back of his neck. Things were not as they appeared, and Katsuro knew it. He tightened his fist nervously. The brown-haired nin felt like he was walking into a trap, and he had not even opened his mouth.

"There is something else you would like to discuss?" Itachi said cooly, never looking up.

This wasn't good. Katsuro cleared his throat and took the direct approach.

"What are you planning for her?" he said, stripping his voice of emotion.

But if Katsuro expected a fight or some kind of fiery reaction, then Itachi did not deliver. Instead, the older nin eased back in his seat and tilted his head thoughtfully at the question.

"I suppose I could always wipe her mind and return her," Itachi said, lazily waving a long, pale hand. "It would send a message to Konoha that we can take anyone whenever we want..."

That wasn't what Katsuro wanted, not really. But it was the quickest way to get her out of harm's way. And most importantly, it was Itachi's idea. Although it seemed too easy that he would simply return her to Konoha unharmed, Katsuro had no choice but to go along with it.

"I think that's best," Katsuro said detachedly. "After all, she is no threat."

Itachi's hand went still, his eyes narrowed to slits. Even the air around him seemed to freeze.

"You believe she is of no threat?" he ground out.

Katsuro sucked in a breath, his gut twisted into a knot. He knew it was a trap — _knew it_ — and yet he blundered right into it anyway. This was why Itachi had let him stand around. He'd seen right through him. Katsuro locked his jaw and looked straight ahead.

"Have you learned nothing?" He pushed off the desk to stand, moving directly into Katsuro's eyeline.

The young rogue continued staring straight ahead, as if the black cloak had not just blotted out his entire view. He knew looking away from Itachi now was not only cowardly, it was a deadly mistake.

"To think you could be disarmed by an enemy so easily," he snapped. "I'm disappointed in you, Katsuro." Itachi regained his composure. His tone smoothed out, but he did not sit. "If she were allowed to simply return, she could point all of Konoha back to you. And I could neither stop them nor protect you."

Itachi's hands were open in front of him, and his black ponytail had slipped forward and snaked down over his collarbone. Katsuro knew he wasn't being kind. He was applying pressure.

"Everything we've worked so hard for would be undone in an instant," Itachi continued. "All because you've let one girl go because you think she's 'no threat.'"

Katsuro still stood defiantly in front of him. Itachi's mouthed curled down in frustration.

"If she knew what you really were," Itachi resumed, voice hard, "then she would be hunting you down just like the rest of them. Don't deceive yourself."

Katsuro's shoulders softened just a bit. But it was enough. Confirmation lit Itachi's narrowed eyes. He knew the boy would bend.

"If they caught you," Itachi began stridently, this time they wouldn't just dump you in an orphanage. You would rot in a cell until they needed the kyuubi. Then they would turn you into the demon...and _you_ would cease to exist."

Itachi smirked. Katsuro had always played into his hands. And though years of training had taught him to hide the things that made him stand out, Katsuro's emotions still rose to the surface in physical nuances. Even in defiance, he was as easy to read as a book.

"No matter what the scenario is," Itachi added. "With Konoha, it only ends one way: You never see the light of day again. "

Itachi watched the young man closely, letting the reality of his words sink in. He knew Katsuro would yield to this reasoning, and the thin line of his lips, clench of a fist and flutter of his eyelashes showed Itachi that he'd hit his mark.

"Anyone is a threat to you. Especially someone from Konoha. In case you had forgotten, I'm sure now you understand," Itachi finished smoothly.

And Katsuro did understand. No matter what he thought of her, she didn't know the first thing about him. About who he was... _what_ he was. How hard he'd fought to survive, and what Konoha would do if they ever got a hold of him.

Itachi was right, and he hated it. How could he throw everything away over some tender feelings for one girl?

The way he felt the night before seemed as flimsy and fleeting as that shimmering mist of the genjutsu. _Was it all just an illusion? The feeling, the connection?_ He frowned. He didn't want to think so.

But regardless of his spiraling emotions, the fact remained the Konoha had never come for her.

Katsuro hazarded a glance at Itachi's face. Impassive as ever.

"Konoha doesn't care," Katsuro said honestly, ending the standoff. "They've abandoned her and left her out here to die."

"They will come," Itachi said, relaxing enough to fold his arms over his chest.

Katsuro shook his head. "You still believe this, even though there's not been a single sign?"

"Yes. They would never let a shinobi leave their village, willingly or unwillingly," Itachi said. "They will come to collect her. Or come to kill her."

Katsuro stifled his desire to shudder at the thought of Sakura being caught up in the crushing machinations of that village. But his belief that Konoha was truly a terrible place was restored. Itachi had not mislead him on that point, it seemed. Just not filled out the whole picture, Katsuro told himself.

And she didn't deserve that fate. If that was what Itachi really wanted, to send her back— Katsuro's breath hitched when he realized Itachi had never answered him.

"And yet she has to go back to there?" Katsuro said, feigning curiosity.

Itachi relaxed movements ground to a halt. "Did _she_ suggest this? Did she say she wants to stay with you? Give up her village?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"No!" Katsuro said quickly. "She seems to be incredibly loyal, I mean..." his voice trailed off. He didn't know what he meant. What Itachi was asking and he was answering were two entirely different things. But the deadly tone in Itachi's voice kept Katsuro from correcting the mistake.

"Good," Itachi breathed, settling back behind his desk. "If she been swayed that easily, then I'd say she was a spy." Flattening a blank scroll, he took up a brush and dragged it through the slanted well of the inkstone. He paused, watching the excess black ink ooze slowly off the brush.

"If she'd said she wanted to stay with you, I'd have killed her on the spot," Itachi said coldly, then flicked the brush in long strokes against the page.

Katsuro went numb. This was not going the way he hoped.

Itachi broke the stillness in the room with a quiet, mean laugh.

"Or perhaps, did you think Konoha would let you keep her, like a pet?" he said snidely. A silent laugh shook his shoulders and set his wisps of black hair swinging as he leaned over the page.

Everything was unraveling, Katsuro thought, and Itachi still wasn't giving him a straight answer.

"What will happen to her," he said quietly.

Itachi continued the fluid movements unperturbed. Not looking up, Itachi chided lightly, as if speaking to a child. "Did you hear anything I said?"

He sounded amused, but Katsuro knew it was false. Irritation sparked within him.

"I just want to know what's going to happen to her—"

"Funny, you've never cared about anyone else who's come through here," Itachi said, head still bowed.

He was toying with her life, Katsuro could feel it.

"What are you going to do to her?" he repeated, struggling to quell his anger.

"I've never seen this side of you before," Itachi quipped. He looked up at Katsuro with an unkind smile on his face, brush suspended in mid-stroke.

Katsuro glared back. Now Itachi was toying with him, too. He finally snapped.

"Are you going to kill her?" Katsuro demanded, fists clenched at his sides. He had never gone against Itachi, but he wasn't going to budge until he got an answer.

Itachi's predatory smile vanished. He slammed the brush down, splattering ink across the page, and sized up the defiant nin with a long, hard stare. A faint blood-red outline of the sharingan wheeled to the surface of his ruthless black eyes.

They both knew it was a sign of how far this little episode had spiraled out of control. But even with the threat of the Uchiha clans most feared technique, Katsuro was not backing down.

Itachi was surprised, to say the least. Was Katsuro so taken with this girl that he would negotiate for her? Was he pushing to keep her, in camp? A Konoha nin, no less.

Itachi wouldn't even entertain the thought. Katsuro needed to be taught a lesson.

"No. I'm not going to kill her," Itachi said darkly. He snapped up the kunai by the blade, holding it out as he'd set it down, with the handle pointed toward Katsuro. "You are."

Katsuro couldn't keep his eyes from going wide with the horrific realization of what was happening. He looked at the weapon as if it were on fire, even as the blood in his veins turned to ice. It had been a trap, from the very beginning. Itachi brought the kunoichi here because he knew he'd come looking for her, then laid out the instrument of her death right in front of his eyes.

"It is obvious you have an attachment to her. But attachments will get you killed," Itachi said, pointing the hilt of the weapon accusingly at him. "Her fate was sealed the moment you picked her."

Katsuro wrapped his fingers around the handle of the kunai — he knew Itachi would kill her if he disobeyed — but the Uchiha didn't let go. Itachi stared him down over the weapon, intent on making a few things clear.

"You have a responsibility to this group which keeps you safe and allows you your freedom. Any Konoha nin is a threat, no matter how attractive they are to you. Do not ever forget where your loyalties lie." Katsuro glared back at Itachi, but the man still would not release the kunai. "If you can not perform this task then it will be reassigned, and it will be infinitely harder on her. _You_ will make sure it is swift and painless. Another member, say Hidan, would be inclined to start by slicing off—"

"That's enough!" Katsuro said and ripped the kunai out of his hands. He didn't care if he hurt Itachi now, but his master was characteristically one step ahead and had already let go of the blade.

Katsuro knew everything Itachi said was true. There was no way out. He was trapped.

Suddenly the air in the tent was stifling, and the canvas walls felt like they were going to fold in on him. Suffocation bearing down on him, Katsuro just wanted to get her and get out of there.

"Don't forget to take your 'pet' with you," Itachi said, cutting through the swirling pressure. Katsuro could hear the smirk in his voice. This was as good as a dismissal.

At the door the kunoichi was stirring, and when Katsuro leaned over her, he found two clear green eyes looking back up at him. From her face he could tell she'd heard at least the end of their conversation. He bit his lip and looked away.

Itachi probably knew she was awake too and did this to torment her, he thought.

Katsuro grabbed the wrist bindings and hoisted her up. It was too soon for her to be walking, but he had no choice. He had to get her out of there before Itachi changed his mind and decided to kill her himself.

"Katsuro," Itachi called, then pitched the kunoichi's hip pack at him. "She needs to have everything she came with." Katsuro grudgingly caught the pack and turned away. Clamping a hand down on her shoulder, the young rogue steadied the kunoichi and half pushed her through the door in front of them.

It was not till she was outside and he was crossing the threshold that Itachi's voice carried out.

"I want this finished by dawn. I don't have to remind you of the personal consequences — for you and for her — if you fail to comply."

Katsuro stiffened, then let the flap fall behind him.

There was no way out of this. Itachi had cut off his last option, closed his last door. Now Katsuro had to make a choice, the girl or his group. But either way, she would be killed.

* * *

Sinking another toe into the soft sand, he watched numbly as it poured off, leaving little pyramids on the gritty river bank where he sat. Beside him, the kunoichi was beginning to stir, but he didn't move. Arms propped listlessly on bent knees, Katsuro felt more hopeless now than he did hours ago.

It was almost as if Itachi had read his mind before he'd left the tent. The last threat was aimed at exactly what Katsuro had planned to do. Just let her go. But without even saying it, Itachi let Kasturo know what he would do if she were deliberately set free. Itachi would have her hunted down and killed. It didn't happen often, but if things went wrong, Katsuro knew death was the only way they covered their tracks. The same applied to her, and Itachi's threat meant he'd personally make sure of it.

Katsuro wouldn't be killed of course, his value to the group was too high, but his punishment for defiance was sure to be brutal, even if he was Itachi's apprentice of sorts.

Katsuro got only a few steps away from the line of tents before he risked a sideways glance at the pale girl stumbling beside him. She was so disoriented she could barely walk. Pink hair tipped mercilessly forward, clinging to her face as she tried to focus on the ground. Even the gentlest shake to clear it away sent her reeling. He untied the binding and slung her arm around his neck, quickly brushing her hair back in the process.

They managed to get far enough away from the tents and down to the noisy protection of the river before he realized that going even a step further was useless.

Where was he going to go? What was he going to do with her? Hopelessness crashed down on him.

Katsuro stopped in the sand beside the river, feet sinking under the additional weight of the nearly unconscious girl. Adjusting his arm around her waist, he hoisted her back up to her feet. He had hooked her arm around his neck, and for a while she supported herself, but now it just hung limp over his shoulder, threatening to slide off at any moment.

He needed to think, come up with a new plan. Katsuro hauled her to standing again. He needed to put her down.

The river cut into the land around the next bend, and Katsuro saw the strip of sand disappearing behind a crumbling bank. He headed right for it.

Easing the kunoichi down into the sand, he fell back beside her to wait out the side effects of the genjutsu. A few hours and she should be back on her feet again. Surely that would give him enough time to work something out.

But as the light slowly faded over the river, Katsuro was no closer to a solution than he was when he sat down. And the girl next to him was beginning to stir.

He sunk another boot toe into the soft sand and watched it pour off fluidly. In front of him, the clear river ran with streaks of purple and blue, stained by the colors of the late afternoon sky and deepening shadows of the forest.

 _Sakura._ He couldn't kill her. That wasn't even a possibility. But letting her live, letting her go, ran counter to Itachi's specific command. Itachi was the one who had saved him and kept him safe. Did he really want to go against him?

Yet he knew that letting her just walk away put her in extreme danger. One of his group would hunt her down and kill her. Accompanying her even part of the way to any escape route could expose him to the people who wanted to kill him. As Itachi had said, that would pu everything they'd worked for in jeopardy. Just how far was he willing to go for her?

He dropped his head into his hands, tangling fistfuls of unruly brown hair.

Katsuro saw this for what it was: A test. A choice. Perhaps even a punishment.

Although she was abducted to be a spy, Itachi had seized on his preoccupation with her. His attachment, Itachi had called it. Now he was hellbent on making Katsuro sacrifice her to prove his loyalty to the group.

Only Itachi could work up something like this. There were sharp angles to every plan of his, always something to get you hung up on. Katsuro had marveled at it in the past, watching Itachi weave a trap, catch everyone he wanted, plan for everything, and have it all work out in the end. But now _he_ was the one the one caught up in it.

Beside him the kunoichi was waking up. Katsuro had become so accustomed to her breathing he could hear the change. Almost feel it. But he still didn't move.

And though he wanted to look at her, check in, make sure she was alright, he dreaded meeting her eyes. He didn't want her to ask any questions, and he didn't want to see her look of fear. Or hatred. Itachi was turning him into an entirely different kind of monster.

So he let her rest and let the waves of nausea lessen, even if it was eating up precious time and daylight.

'What does it matter,' he thought dejectedly. He had no plan, no where to go. He had wasted his time running circular arguments and had nothing to show for it. He closed his eyes and waited.

Eventually she sat up, took a few deep breaths, looked around. Katsuro sat forward as well, but did not look back at her.

"What now," she said, her voice tight, tired.

"We go," he said quietly.

Katsuro stood, brushed the sand off him, and turned to help her up. She sought out his face, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes. Instead he pulled her to standing, letting her cling to his arm till she regained her balance.

Low voices and the steady crunch of footfalls on the flat land above them carried down the steep bank. Katsuro froze instinctively, eyes scanning the crust of earth, and whispered "shhh" right next to her ear. She was swaying on her feet, and had ducked her head and squeezed her eyes shut against the dizziness, but she nodded once in acknowledgement. He grabbed her shoulder to keep her steady.

The footsteps came closer, the voices grew louder. Men going to camp, Katsuro thought. A moment later, the sounds were fading away.

They hadn't seen him, and he realized he didn't want to be seen. Those men could report back to Itachi, possibly tell him which direction they were leaving by.

It spurred him finally to some decision. The farther out from camp, the better off they'd be.

Once he was sure all was quiet around them, Katsuro checked the kunoichi over. She was rubbing a hand over her face, but her color looked better. And her balance seemed to be returning. That was good enough for him.

"Time to go," he said with more determination than he'd felt all day. Katsuro didn't know where they were going or what he was going to do, but he knew they needed to get as far away as possible. He'd figure something out. Hopefully.

"Come on, we'll do this together," he said. Katsuro threaded his arm back around her waist, turned her toward the river and began walking her down the bank. She stumbled a little, but moved forward.

They stayed to the larger rocks, moving together, and quickly crossed the river without a sound. A few steps more, and they disappeared into the safety of the tree line. But Katsuro didn't slow down. Arm still hooked around her, he kept going until the rushing sound of the river was dull and distant.

They stopped for a moment's rest. Sakura was feeling well enough to walk on her own now, although she'd never kept that pace had she not been locked to Katsuro.

Leaning against a tree, she waited while he backtracked to make sure they weren't followed. At length he came back up the wooded bank.

"We're safe," he said tersely, handing her the hip pack without looking at her. "Can you walk?"

Sakura nodded and slowly snapped the pack back on. It was the first time she'd seen it since she'd been taken. It was heavy and full. 'Everything she came with,' Itachi's voice echoed through her mind. She swallowed thickly.

"Good, we need to get as far as we can while there's still light," he responded, interrupting her thoughts. He moved on without waiting for her, and Sakura quietly fell in behind him.

They stuck to the pathless forest, moving downriver, its rushing always within earshot. The sound filled the void made by their silence.

Sakura had heard the order issued by Itachi, although it felt more like a dream than a memory. She knew Katsuro had been told to kill her. And she had some idea that he didn't want to.

Several times she had almost asked him what he planned to do, but she had a sinking feeling he would not give her an answer. That maybe he'd not made up his mind yet. She knew it was cowardly, but she put off asking, and instead focused on getting as far away from that camp as possible.

Katsuro moved swiftly, and Sakura kept up fairly well. They wound past trees and under brush, their sounds nearly always muffled by the rolling river. Sometime it was wide and placid, the ground stretching out flat on either side; other times it turned narrow and roared over the rocks, gouging the earth with its path. Then the pair had to watch each step atop the steep, treacherous banks.

They managed to cover quite a bit of ground before darkness slowed their progress. The river rolled close by again, somewhere beyond the curtain of night, and they had to take care not to get too close.

Sakura didn't mind slowing, exhaustion was starting to take its toll and the darkness made the forest landscape perilous. She had stumbled before when she could see in front of her, but now she felt like she was tripping or dropping to her knee every other step.

There were no stars, no moon, even the outline of Katsuro was nearly indiscernible and constantly moving away from her. The roar of the churning water pounded relentlessly in her ears, crashing everywhere around her.

More focused on trying to find Katsuro in the blanketing darkness than a clearer path, Sakura hooked a foot on a boulder and fell forward onto another one. The sickening crack of bone hitting rock drowned out the river sound for a moment.

Sitting up just enough to clutch her knees, Sakura rocked against the intense pain. She didn't want to cry, she'd cried enough for a whole lifetime, but it hurt so damn bad. Everything hurt, she thought. A sob escaped anyway.

Gritting her teeth against the tears and pain, she told herself to get up, keep moving. Even if Katsuro never told her where they were going, this was her best chance to escape. Her last chance.

"Sakura!" Katsuro called faintly out of the darkness. "Are you there?" His voice rose sharp and urgent over the din as he got closer.

"Here," she said, pushing down the throbbing pain enough to respond. She sniffed, but didn't move.

"Did you fall? You ok?" he said with a relieved breath. A warm hand patted out her shoulder, her elbow.

"I can't see," she said stupidly, voice thick with tears.

"I know. It's getting dangerous," he said with a nervous laugh. It couldn't hide the shakiness in his voice. For him to actually say that, after everything they'd been through without comment from him, made Sakura's toes curl in fear.

She brushed her knees, pulled herself back together, and let him help her to standing. But once she was fully upright, he still didn't let go. Instead, Katsuro flattened his slightly calloused hand against her smooth palm, and gently intertwined his fingers with hers.

Sakura went still, her hand frozen. He couldn't help but notice.

"We— We've got to stick close," he offered as a weak explanation. He sounded strangely vulnerable, something she would never attribute to the boy during daylight hours. He must have thought she had fallen into the river.

But she understood why he held on to her so tightly. Perhaps he was just as adrift now as she was, even behind all his bravado. The warm touch was a flicker of hope.

She squeezed his hand softly in mute acceptance. He squeezed back a little harder, curling his fingers to brush her skin.

"Come on," he said, tugging her arm lightly. "We need your light."

"What?" she said, thoroughly confused.

"Your healing chakra, let it cover your hand," he said, and waited. A thin layer of green chakra pooled around her free hand and threw a dim light at their feet. Sakura saw then that the ground crumbled away beside her. Somewhere in that black abyss was the river. She shuddered involuntarily, and the light wavered.

"Don't look," Katsuro said with another quick squeeze of his hand. "Let's just keep going."

They climbed steadily up the steep wooded bank above the river, and slid down the other side, aiming for flatter terrain in the gully. Thick trees rose up on either side, but the trek was easier, and the noisy river was at least muffled a little by the ridge.

"Can't we go to the trees," Sakura said as they ducked around a particularly large trunk.

"No, our chakra signature would be too high," he said. She frowned. "And we're more likely to run into someone," he added quietly.

Sakura mulled what he'd said. The chakra used for gripping trees was no more than she used now to light her hand. But if they were intent on staying hidden, then the ground was definitely the best route. On all the long distance missions she'd ever been on, they'd taken to the trees. She assumed most other nins did as well.

Reflecting on her previous life jolted her memory. Katsuro had said something earlier, called her from the darkness when she'd fallen. And she'd responded.

He said her name. _Her_ name, not the name she'd given him.

Her mouth went dry.

"Katsuro," she whispered. "H-how did you know my name?"

"Oh that," he said awkwardly. "You told me last night, before you went to sleep."

"I don't remember that," she said, shaking her head. Her voice rose a notch. "I don't remember going to sleep." Panic was closing her throat. The sickness. _Genjutsu._ It must have been. He must have done it.

A desperate thought found its way into her heart. She was wrong about him. He was going to follow Itachi's orders. She had placed her trust in him, and he was going to kill her for it. She'd made yet another mistake.

The wind bore down on the treetops in a woosh. Katsuro stopped suddenly in front of her, but she barely registered it.

"Where are you taking me?" she said, feeling sick. But he didn't answer.

"Are you going to—" she demanded, but he cut her off.

"Not so loud," he whispered harshly and pulled her hand to keep moving, his grip painfully tight.

But it was only secondary to her inner turmoil. Reality was digging in its claws.

She looked for any opening in desperation, following him simply because she couldn't command her body to do otherwise.

"Why don't you just let me run," she begged, "tell them I escaped. No one would ever know."

He only laughed coldly. "Someone escaping me? Everyone would know."

A bird shot out from a nearby treetop, startling them both. She dimmed the chakra at her hand. He waited a moment, listening hard, before pushing on with even more urgency.

"I know what he said. I know what you have to do," she continued, voice cracking, hoping, praying he would just say something.

But Katsuro was silent. He was nearly dragging her through the undergrowth. Leaves pattered down around them from the high canopy.

He didn't correct her. That only meant one thing. Tears stung her eyes. She should never have believed in him.

"Then why— why drag this out?" she sobbed. "Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

Her voice echoed off the trees around them.

"Stop it" he shouted back angrily at her, squeezing her hand hard. "Just stop it! I don't care what he said, I'm not going to—"

A cracking branch cut them both off.

"Shhh" he said. She extinguished the chakra glow completely, and they stepped closer together. He still had her hand, but with his free one he dugs his fingers down under his collar and pulled the face wraps back up.

They had stopped in a natural clearing. There was no undergrowth to hide them here, but movement to a safer area now was out of the question.

"Get behind me," Katsuro said quietly, and pushed her a step back before letting go of her hand.

The wind, the falling leaves, it was all a cover to hide the movements of someone. He should have been paying closer attention, he thought. Not letting his emotions distract him—

Branches creaked faintly above them. Some unknown group was alighting in the trees, circling in on them from the canopy.

Katsuro dropped into a defensive stance. A limb groaned nearby. He whipped his head in its direction just as a leafy branch rattled from the other side.

More than one, he thought, and they're getting closer.

Loosening his fingers for hand signs or a ready grab at the kunai strapped to his leg, he heard her feet shift against the leaves behind him. The idea of her sinking into a battle position brought him to clarity.

She had to get out of here. He'd make a way for her to do it.

He raced through the scenarios. Escaping in a surprise attack would give her some measure of protection. As long as she could make it to Konoha, she'd be safe. Itachi would never seek her out there.

And his safe return from an ambush would free her from Itachi's death sentence. Katsuro knew his value, and his power. His survival was of the utmost importance in any situation and he would leverage that as the cost of letting her go.

He blew out a low, focusing breath. He alone could make the difference.

There'd be punishment to be sure — being open to attack was never tolerated — but it would be on his shoulders now, not hers. A small sacrifice to make for her life.

He scanned the blackness around him, anticipation coursing with the blood through his veins. He was more than ready for anyone to drop down. For the first time, he was ready to fight for something, _someone_ , other than himself. He never thought he'd be glad he had such an unholy power to command. But if it meant she'd make it out alive—

Footsteps padded down on a branch. The sound was unmistakeable now. Katsuro licked his lips, eying the nearly impenetrable canopy. It didn't matter how many assailants were around them. He knew he could wipe them all out.

Behind him, Sakura's boot ground into the leaves. He could picture her, knees and elbows flexed, ready to fight whatever was lurking in the darkness. She was preparing for battle, but this was no longer her fight.

She had to go. Now. It was her only chance.

"You've got to get out of here," he whispered over his shoulder. "I'll fight them off. When you see an opening, take it. Run as far and as fast as you can. Follow the river, it'll get you to your village."

She blinked at the darkness. He wanted her to run? Was he serious? He was going to let her live?

She had doubted him, doubted herself. But her trust had not been misplaced.

Adrenaline pushed out the despair and exhaustion. She brushed away traitorous tears. She knew she should focus on strategy, but the hope that her ordeal was over would not be denied.

To go home…. The possibility of escape shined in front of her.

But what of Katsuro? The beacon of hope dimmed. If she left, there would be heavy a price to pay.

Katsuro opened his mouth to repeat what he'd said, sure she didn't hear it, when she whispered back, "Come with me."

"W-What?" he said, completely thrown.

"Come with me," she repeated with more sureness.

"No," he responded, smiling. It wasn't at all what he expected her to say.

"I know you're not safe either," she said, "not if you don't kill me….So come with me."

"No. I'll be fine." he reassured. She was concerned, too. He smiled a little wider. It wasn't an illusion, their connection was real. Any lingering doubt at going against direct orders washed away, but his voice turned serious. "I can't go to Konoha."

There were more noises around them, closing in. He knew he must tell her quickly. She began to retort, but he cut her off.

"You said you'd protect me too?" he said under his breath.

"Of course, I—"

"Then you must never tell anyone about me, ever," he continued in an urgent whisper. "My old village will hunt me down and kill me. Not my age or what I look like. Please do this for me. Not anything, ever. Okay?… _Okay?"_

But there was no answer.

Behind him, the air shifted subtly. A thin breeze licked his skin and shivered the ends of his hair, where previously it had been still. Blocked by a body. _Her_ body.

Katsuro reached back desperately to grab for her. But even as his arm swung around, the awful certainty of what had happened tore through him. Fingers grasped at empty space. His stomach tightened. She was already gone.

Whoever caught her up this time, it couldn't be good.


End file.
